


Minor Characters V: Lies, Lies, Lies

by gelbes_gilatier



Series: Minor Characters [6]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: AWOL, Action/Adventure, Betrayal, F/M, Gen, Mission Fic, Soldiers, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelbes_gilatier/pseuds/gelbes_gilatier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever thought MSgt Simon DeLisle would just disappear on his team... and now he did. What are Maj Thomas Moore, Capt Laura Greenspan and 1stLt Maureen Reece saying to that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Minor Characters: Lies, Lies, Lies**

_"You're moving too fast for me_   
_And I can't keep up with you_   
_Maybe if you slowed down for me_   
_I could see you're only telling_   
_Lies, lies, lies_   
_Breaking us down with your_   
_Lies, lies, lies."_

_Glen Hansard, "Lies"_

**One**

_DeLisle_

God, sometimes I really hate my life. Like… now, for example. The funny thing is: I should be celebrating – in my head, at least. Feeling smug would also be an appropriate response. But all I feel is… horrible. And angry. Mostly at myself, by the way, even though there are a lot of other targets I could direct my anger at. But it always comes down to this: it was solely my choice to do this, so no use in blaming others for my misfortune.

Also… I know a lot of people who'd call my current predicament anything but unfortunate. Once upon a time… I used to be one of them.

"Hey, Sy, would you mind paying some attention here?" Yep, once upon a time… the only thing I'd have done now would have been grin at her – Catalina Mercedes Noruega – and oblige her happily. Now… I also grin and oblige her. But I'm anything but happy.

"Sorry, Tali… got a lot of things on my mind right now." At least I didn't have to lie outright. Doesn't quite make up for the circa million other lies that got me here but yeah… makes me feel just a little better. And makes it easier to bear kissing her now.

Don't get me wrong, Catalina Noruega is a good kisser… and still a looker. If it were just about her physical appearance and her qualities as a lover, I absolutely wouldn't mind having to do this. However… I was kind of ordered – let's not say "blackmailed" because that's such an ugly word – to do this and also… our last thing didn't quite end well. "Sy! Do I really have to bring out the big guns to make you pay me the attention I deserve?"

Uh-oh. That might have sounded silky-smooth – and damn, my stupid body still reacts with a flutter deep in my stomach to that special kind of tone – but it usually means she's starting to get annoyed enough that it's becoming dangerous. Okay, time to dig out the guy I hardly get to be anymore.

I give her a smirk I know to be cocky… one of the things I could always count on securing me the attention of every woman in the room. Which I only realized after someone – Noruega, to be precise – pointed it out to me. "Far as I know, my gun always used to be the biggest one." Dammit, this really isn't me. Used to be me, maybe ten years ago, but years with CIA and Black Ops made that guy disappear and I really don't feel comfortable with him anymore.

"Yeah, well, used to be being the operative word. I'd really like to see if you have something to show for those big words." Okay, fine, that's it. I might be here on quasi orders, I might have some bad memories of our thing… but I won't let anyone accuse me of being a show-off. Growling, I bend down to kiss her again, with some real vigor now, while starting to undress her. And all the while I'm trying to tell myself that I don't feel ashamed or like… I'm betraying my team. Betraying Laura.

_Greenspan_

Alright, I've had it. Two weeks since Dee went away and Tom's still sulking, unlike Maureen and I. And dammit, we have as much reason to sulk as he has but apparently, we have a brain and he doesn't. Because to us it's pretty clear that there's something fishy with Dee's disappearance and we were both able to get beyond the initial feelings of confusion and hurt and also anger but Tom… I don't think I've ever seen him crankier than the last two weeks.

He's trying to pretend that Dee's disappearance didn't faze him but I know him better. And I feel insulted because… did he really think he could get anything past me? Did he really think I'm stupid enough not to realize what the whole thing did to him? Dammit, I know Dee and he are friends – yes, are, because I'm sure Dee's somewhere out there, probably in trouble and definitely not because he just had a funny notion he wanted to follow – and I also know that there are things binding them together not even Tom and I share.

Maybe they never talked about it but as long as I know Dee, I always had a feeling that Tom wouldn't be who he is and what he is if it hadn't be for his ever faithful Sergeant. Actually… I think Tom wouldn't even be alive without. And Tom really thinks I don't notice how much Dee's disappearance got to him?

I snort and that makes Maureen look up from the book she'd been reading. She just raises her eyebrows, as if to ask what's the matter and I sigh. We came home from a mission two hours ago and it had been rather trying, seeing as we never really managed to get along with the Sergeant they gave us to replace Dee for this mission. Granted, we didn't even give him the chance to become a part of the team, even if it was just for the mission but… I guess we all just miss Dee too much.

And since we came home, we've both been trying to relax and unwind with a book in front of the fireplace but I for my part… was anything but successful. I take a deep breath but Maureen's faster. "In case you've just been fretting over the Major and Dee's disappearance: yes, I also think it's about time we do something about it."

Sometimes… she can be really scary. I can try and tell myself that it's natural for people living together to develop a notion about how the other thinks all I want but all I come back to is: she must be psychic. She has to be. There's no other way of how to explain how she does that thing. "Do you, by any chance, also happen to have an idea what we can do about it?"

Did I just sound a little too bitchy? Judging from her face… yeah, I did. But it's really getting at me. I miss Dee, as a team member and as a… person, and I can't stand seeing Tom being miserable – really miserable, I mean, not just in a huff – and I want my team to be whole again. Maureen now shuts her book and puts it away. "As a matter of fact… yes, I do." Uh… really? "Well, kind of."

"Care to elaborate?" Okay, maybe I should cut back a little on the snarling. She does look a little irritated… and if I irritate her further, she might decide not to tell me whatever her idea was after all.

"Yeah, well, see… we're both certain Dee disappeared for a reason, right?" I nod. "And we both think that Major Moore is wrong in his assumption that he betrayed the team, right?" I nod again. So far, I know all of that already. "So… maybe… he'll start listening to us when we can prove it to him Dee didn't commit a crime?"

Right. As if. Seriously, if Tom has set his mind on something, he won't step back from it. He's been like this for his entire life now, so I don't think I or Maureen or anyone else can change it. "Maureen… that's not how Tom's mind works." She raises her eyebrow again. "If he's convinced that Dee betrayed the team, Dee betrayed the team. No amount of 'proof' will be able to convince him of the opposite."

She bites her lip and then says matter-of-factly, "He was convinced that he wanted me gone, too."

Damn. Good point. Really, really good point. He really was and it was hard to make him change that decision. But change it, he did. Damn, damn, damn. "Alright, fine. That was one time when he did change his mind. That doesn't mean he'll do it again."

She just shrugs, trying to look like my obstinacy doesn't bother her. "We'll never see if we don't try it."

Goddam… she's right. Of course she's right. I'm starting to see what Tom means when he grumbles about "her fucking logic"… and I sigh. "Alright, fine. How do we go about it?"

Biting her lip again, she says, "Well… I was hoping that… you might have an idea." Is she… is that… a sheepish little grin?

Oh well. Good to know that apparently I'm still needed. Because, let's face it, they'd all be lost without me. Making a show of rolling my eyes, I put my book aside as well – it was a bit boring, anyway – and say, "I… might have an idea," and that's not even a lie. I might indeed have an idea…


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

_Reece_

Why exactly did I propose we find out why Dee disappeared?

Oh, right. Because he's a friend.

And okay, because it's starting to get more than just a little annoying how the Major walks around with that dark cloud hanging over his head – figuratively speaking but I'm starting to get the feeling it might actually manifest itself physically if he keeps it up any longer – and how they keep pushing Sergeants at us that we don't intend to keep, anyway.

I know it's unfair to the Sergeants but the thing is… we don't want another Sergeant and we will keep scaring off the ones they send us and… and I will now get back to working on getting Dee back. Okay, finding out what actually happened. Which will hopefully lead to getting him back. Yes.

So… where to start? His desk is awfully neat and clean, unlike… well… mine, for example. I mean, I'm not messing it up and cluttering it like the Major is doing with his – it's a miracle the man can get _any_ of his paperwork done, believe me – but I have… a very special way of filing my stuff.

Dee, however… I'm not sure if he actually _does_ any filing because… there isn't much paper here, for example. There are a couple of post-its on the wall behind the desk but their contents is mostly chemical stuff. I still collected them because maybe Laura can make something of them after all.

Apart from that… some pens, paper clips – for what paper, I wonder – some other office supplies… all neatly arranged and looking as if… he never actually used them. Weird. Also, of course, no laptop. There's the faint hope it's still sitting in his room which we still haven't entered and which strangely enough still hasn't been cleared by someone _else_ , such as the MP, for example who only sealed it and then seemingly forgot about it but quite honestly… I don't think Dee would have been stupid enough to leave it behind.

So… let's look at the drawers. Empty. And I'm starting to get the feeling that… they weren't always like that.

Okay.

How stupid can one Marine be?

Of _course_ his desk wasn't always like that. So yes, I've seen it before and it was just as neat before… but it still looked like a desk in use. A laptop, a coffee cup, even the occasional coffee stain, some papers scribbled with notes scattered across the desk… and I think I also saw a picture frame or two.

No, wait. I'm _sure_ I saw at least one picture frame and I think it was the picture Major Lorne took of us at the annual SGC family picnic over at Peterson last year. We were sitting around a table and even though we didn't know each other _that_ long back then, we were still strangely comfortable around each other and… that picture is _gone_. Seriously, it is.

I swear I searched every drawer and every nook and even all the crannies… but no picture frame, and no picture either. So he went away, without a word and he took the picture frame away as well… maybe he… took the picture _with_ him? And if he did… doesn't that mean he didn't desert us? That I was _right_ with my guts telling me that he'd never turn on us like that?

I know I probably look pretty stupid but I can't help it. There's a slow smile spreading across my face at the realization that I just discovered that an empty desk can tell as many tales as a full one can do. So… if I could find out _that_ from having a look at his desk… isn't there a good chance we might find out at least a _little_ more when having a look at his room as well? Still grinning, I get up and decide to go and find Laura. Damn, we really should have done this earlier.

_Moore_

"Okay, we've had it," I hear Laura's voice say while someone dumps an assortment of papers on my desk, thereby stealing the couple of minutes that I wanted to use for taking just a _little_ break from all that _other_ paper on my desk.

Okay.

Fine.

I had my head on my arms that were folded on my desk and I had my eyes closed and I might even have dozed off. But I was _not_ sleeping. Seriously. I wasn't. Sleep is for losers. "Tom, I'm _talking_ to you."

Dammit. "And I _heard_ you, Laura." I have no idea what you want from me, though, but like hell I'm gonna tell you that. And… what's Reece doing here as well? Actually… what are they _both_ doing here? They were supposed to write their reports or be on duty in their departments or asleep at home or… whatever. But they were _not_ supposed to be _in my office_ right now.

"But it never hurts to repeat things with you." What the… there's a _subordinate_ present, Laura! "We have had it, Tom."

Barely recovering from the whole weirdness of this encounter, I blink and can only utter, "With _what_?" but at least it was reasonably righteously pissed off.

It… didn't really faze Laura, though. "With you being an idiot, of course." What the _hell_? And why isn't Reece looking like she wants to disappear into the ground? Why is she looking like she… _agrees_?

"You know what's weird, Laura? I think I just heard you say that I'm an idiot. In front of a mutual subordinate. I'm sure I just misheard you, didn't I?" Actually, I really think I did. I have no idea what this is about.

"No, you _didn't_. And I can say it again, in case you need confirmation." I'm about to tell her that it's really unnecessary but she doesn't let me get that far. "You are an _idiot_ , Major Thomas William Moore." What… _subordinate_! Right behind you! Subordinates are not supposed to know their commanding officers' middle names. Okay, those subordinates that haven't been friends with their commanding officers since kindergarten. And okay, at least she didn't call me by my _full_ name. If she had, I might have felt compelled to flashy-thing her or something. Not that… it would be possible – at least not right _now_ – but… ah, hell.

"You're starting to sound like a fucking broken record, _Captain Laura Henrietta Greenspan_." There. Got right back at ya. No middle name is more embarrassing than _Henrietta_. Ha.

Unfortunately, Reece doesn't really look like this is any news to her.

Oh, fuck.

Dear God, please don't let them be chummy enough for Laura actually having volunteered _that_ information to her.

"Okay then, I've got a new tune for you. We're fed up with you being an ass about Dee being gone." Oh, right, _we_ are fed up. Sure. Of course. _We_.

"Pluralis majestatis, Laura?" Yes, Reece, that's right, even _I_ know a couple of big words. And don't give me that Inigo Montoya look.

"No, sir. Captain Greenspan spoke for the both of us." And please do _not_ side with Laura. _Again_. Isn't there any way I can make her move out again? What was so bad about living on base? Dee does it, too and…

Dee.

That's… what this about. All of a sudden… it's back. The bone deep disappointment and anger I felt when the MP told me that my Sergeant went AWOL the night before a mission and could not be found since. I'd just told them that telling me that was redundant because damn, if there's anyone knowing Dee could never be found if he doesn't want anyone to find him, it's me. He was the one who taught me how that works.

Anyway, I told them that and I was kind of hoping he might come back – and yes, did a little research on my own – for about two days but it was like he was just _gone_ and that was when I'd realized that he didn't want to be found and that he maybe never trusted us und never trusted _me_ and that he might have gone back to his stupid CIA roots and I don't think I ever felt betrayed like that before and _that_ was when I decided that I would never think about that Sergeant again.

And now Laura comes marching into my office, Reece in tow, quiet like always and thinks she has the right to tell me I'm being an _ass_ about the whole thing? "Just go, Laura. You too, Lieutenant."

There's another moment of silence and I just bet they were exchanging glances. Didn't see it, though, because I couldn't stand seeing them being all in a self-righteous huff and everything. "With all due respect, Tom… no, we won't." _Jesusfuckingchrist_ … "Not until you read what's in the file." What fi… oh, _that_ file. The one she dumped so unceremoniously on my desk a couple of minutes ago.

The one that I certainly will not even look at again. "I sure as hell _won't_. Now get the _fuck_ out."

"Or what?" _Goddammit_ , the guts that woman has. Those _women_ , actually. Reece didn't even _flinch_. Or… maybe a little. But she used to flinch a lot more visible only a couple of days ago. Or… what seems to be just a couple of days.

"Or I will act like a superior officer. A _real_ one, Laura." Because _I_ 've had it. First my Sergeant going AWOL and now the rest of my team is rebelling? No fucking way. Who do they think they are?

"You know what, Tom?" Laura… seems to be pretty much pissed off, now, though. But… I'm not intimidated by that. Not the least bit. "You don't need to act like a superior officer. It's enough that you're acting like a superior _asshole_." _What the hell_? "Come on, Maureen. Let's give him some time to get normal again." What… _Laura_! You can't just… you can't… _Reece_! Stay the hell here, you…

"Captain Greenspan, you get your fucking ass right back into my fucking office _right fucking now_." And you too, Reece but for some reason I can't bring myself to shout something about _your_ ass down the corridor. And… are they _ignoring_ me? "That's a fucking _order_!"

Alright, it's never good if you have to tell your subordinates that the order you gave them _was_ an order but… there's no one around here, anyway, since it must be middle of the night and… and Laura turns around again. Oh. "First you couldn't wait to throw us out of your office, now you're ordering us to get back? Make up your damn mind, Tom." And that's… it. That's all she says before turning around and marching away, and Reece does the same…

No, wait, she didn't. She… turned around again for a moment and looked at me and… did she just mouth "Sorry, sir."? What's… going on here? What the _hell_ is going on here?

Seething, I walk back to my desk, sit down and… there's the file again. Some very small part of my brain tells me that a couple of answer to my questions might be waiting in there for me but… God, I don't even… I don't even know if I actually want to _have_ those answers. I just… want things to get fucking _normal_ again. Would that really be so hard?


	3. Chapter 3

**hree**

_Greenspan_

Maureen… isn't really happy, that much I can see. As we walk across the dark parking lot towards my car, she's silent and it's the kind of silence that strongly discourages any attempts at talking. Strangely enough, that's not much unlike Tom's silence. Or rather, one of the many ways that Tom can be silent. Actually, sometimes it feels like Tom has more ways to express himself with silence than with words.

And quite frankly, time and again there are times when it would have been better for everyone involved if he'd just kept silent. Like a couple of minutes ago. Why, why, _why_ couldn't he just have sat back, opened the file and had a look at it? What would have been so hard about that? He _knows_ that I don't care about speculation and that whenever I put something on his desk it makes _sense_. Why not just _trust_ me?

Oh right. Because he decided that since Dee went away, he's got carte blanche for excelling in the field of being a stupid bastard. And God, do I hate it when he's like that. So yes, I warned Maureen about the possibility of that happening but damn, I honestly have to say that the _severity_ of his reaction did surprise – and _anger_ – even me.

And that thing with calling after us in the hallway… that was just ludicrous. Seriously, how stupid can one flyboy be? Okay, maybe I shouldn't have… no, I _should_. I _had_ to. "Act like a real superior", my _ass_. That was just… "Laura… why don't you give me the keys?"

"What?" Raised eyebrows and… why is she standing at the driver's door? That's _my_ car and I…

"The keys, Laura. Why don't you give them to me?" Thank you very much, I heard you the _first_ time.

"What exactly is this going to be, mh?" Because yes, I did let you drive my car a couple of times. But that was because my arm was in a sling or there was a cast on my leg, _okay_? And I just let you drive for _your_ benefit. _I_ would have been fine but I could just imagine the face of silent resignation and grim determination not to say anything about my…

"I… um… I don't think you should be driving tonight." You don't _what_?

"Oh, and why is that?" Because I'd really like to know what this is about.

She bites her lips and runs a hand over her hair. "Because… you're… look, Laura, I just… I'd really like to get home alive, you know."

What the _hell_? "I thought you were on _my_ side, Maureen!"

I can see her chest rise and fall and she puts her hand on the car's roof. "I _am_ on your side. That's why… I don't think you should be driving tonight."

Uh… what? I don't see what one thing has to do with the other. "I still don't get it. What the _hell_ is going on here?"

She's starting to have that resigned look again. The one she always has when she thinks one of her superiors is being an idiot but doesn't feel bold enough to actually voice it. Usually it's directed at Tom but… this time… huh? "The Major." What does Tom have to do with this? "And you. The Major and you, I mean. You're still pissed off, aren't you?"

Uncomprehending, I frown and say, "Yeah, so?"

"So you shouldn't be driving." Yes, you said that before. "Laura… don't get me wrong. I know you're a really good driver, seriously, I do." Why, _thank_ you. "But the way you're pissed off tonight…"

Oh. Okay, I get it. She thinks that because Tom made me furious I lost my edge. Huh, that's… that's… not that far from the truth actually. I may be a virologist but yeah, I know how anger affects our reaction. Tunnel vision and all that. Right. I sigh. And then I toss her the keys. A little surprised she can just catch them. Ha. Gotcha. You didn't expect _that_ , did you?

_Reece_

Mh. Okay, I didn't really expect she'd give in so it's surprise and actual shock that keeps me silent when I leave the parking lot. It even keeps me – or maybe both of us – silent until we reach the drive way.

Then… I hear Laura say tentatively, "That… could have gone better."

Yeah, no kidding. I concentrate on the nearly empty road. "It could."

Silence for another couple of minutes. Then, "He'll… he'll come around. It's just his stupid wounded pride."

And _finally_ we're on the right track. She'd never have come down if I'd let her drive. She needed someone to make her sit still and not let herself be distracted. Kind of scary how well I seem to know her, if you think about it. There's a question that needs to be asked, though. "Are you sure about that?"

I hear her letting out a frustrated groan and risk looking at her for a moment. Mh, mh… one, two… "Maureen, I've known him..."

"For all your life, I know." Because that's what she always says. It's true, of course but by now, we all have internalized it, thank you very much. "But… don't get me wrong…"

Another frustrated groan. And probably also Laura rolling her eyes. "Whatever it is, just say it."

Mh. Yeah, maybe I should just do that. Maybe I should stop asking her not to get me wrong. _Maybe_ I should start trusting her that she won't. I sigh. "Well, there's the Black Year."

Now it's Laura who sighs and says, "There's that, yes." For a while that's the only thing she says… the only thing _any_ of us says. I know I should probably have kept that to myself but she knows it very well herself. Yes, I'm perceptive enough to have realized that the Black Year is something the Major and Laura don't talk about… something they don't _want_ to talk about.

Actually, sometimes it's like the Black Year is a big black box standing right in the middle of the room that everyone tries to ignore but no one can see past. But the thing is, if you'd acknowledge it being there, you'd also have to talk about it… so everyone hopes it'll just go away on its own. It won't, though, and somehow… I always feel bad for the both of them.

I know Laura resents the Major for having left her alone and I have a feeling the Major hates himself for having done so. Of course he never talked about it – and if he did, he sure as hell wouldn't talk about it with _me_ … and I just had to remind myself that I can call myself lucky if he doesn't even _notice_ me – but unlike some other people I sometimes find him very easy to read, actually. If they'd just talk about it… it would probably solve a lot of things.

However, they won't and we have a problem at hand that we need to deal with. Taking the last exit before home, I say, "So… what do you think about the stuff we gave the Major?"

She makes a non-committal sound, then says, "It's half-baked at best. But it's all we have."

I'm pretty sure it's anything but half-baked, even with the almost non-existent stuff we have. "Got anything from the post-its?" Because they just won't let go of me. And it really is the only _definite_ thing we have, since we couldn't enter his quarters after all. They changed the code. Well, of _course_ they would and we'd have known that way earlier, hadn't we tried to be good little soldiers who do as they're told by the MP. And dammit, even _I_ know that you never do as the MP tells you.

"Not really. Something's weird about them but I can't pinpoint it yet. None of them make any sense, at least not… At least not separately. Oh." Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you… Laura Greenspan just surprised herself. And me, actually. "Come on, Maureen, step on it! I gotta get home!" I just clear my throat and drive _exactly_ according to traffic regulations. "Okay, okay, _we_ gotta get home. Now, step the fuck on it."

In the end, I don't do it because seriously, she can certainly bear another couple of yards at a reasonable pace. And… I can certainly bear another few yards full of ugly threats to my well-being, laced with "I know where you live!"

Trying not to sigh too loudly, I park the car and we get out and damn, Laura must have had a really good idea because I've never seen her dash up to the apartment faster than she just did. Well, let's see what exactly her idea _is_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

_DeLisle_

Well. So she's on the run now. Or rather… _we_ are on the run. The only difference between us is that I know on whose orders _I_ am on the run. To find out who ordered _her_ … well, that's my job. And I _hate_ that job, did I mention that before?

Okay, maybe I did but it's still true. I hate it. It's not actually the fact that I'm supposed to spy on a former fellow soldier. And not even the fact that in order to do that – to get _really_ close to her, that is – I have to sleep with her. No, it's the fact that this is not sanctioned _whatsoever_ by my commanding officer.

That is, not my immediate superior. Not Major Moore and I really don't even want to think about what's going on with my team right now. And what will happen when I get back. _If_ I can get back, anyway.

 _God_.

I sigh soundlessly and get back to going through our supplies. We've been hiding out in this shed in the Middle of Nowhere, Colorado for three days, and quite frankly, that's too long for anyone who's ever done this professionally.

Okay, _most_ of all it's far too long for someone who's got half the government conspiracy community on their heels, and I don't mean the guys with the funny hats and the "Take me with you… or at least bring us back Elvis!" pickets in front of Area 51 by that. Damn, whatever Noruega did, it pissed off a _lot_ of people, and her ex-bosses – _ours_ , actually – are just somewhere in the line.

However, they are those who own the closet my skeletons are lying in and they have a vivid interest in getting Noruega under lock and barrel, whatever the cost. Yes, this is capture or kill here and I wish it were over, preferably without any killing. My days as part of targeted killing operations are long gone and I'd prefer it to stay that way… because that was when my skeletons started to populate the closet.

Oh, okay, enough with the metaphor already. And enough with the fucking skeletons. The only good thing about this whole thing is that when I can get it done with hopefully only a minimum of fuss and blood and generally everything unpleasant that could happen, the skeletons will be gone. Or at least be put in a different closet… Alright. I said enough with the metaphor. I…

"You know, the reason why I went straight for you? I really like strong and silent type. But I really do _not_ like _brooding_ type. What's going on, Sy?" Yes, of course she would notice it. Actually, I was starting to wonder what took her so long to say something.

I try the little meaningful and ambiguous grin I could always get her with – actually, I can also get _Laura_ with it… or could, because of course I never actually _tried_ it on her – and reply, "Just wondering… who exactly _did_ you piss off, Tali?"

She shrugs and grins. "Everyone I _could_ piss off?" Yeah, right. Of course she'd say that.

"How about I name a few and you just nod or shake your head?" Come on, go for the suggestive half-grin. You always liked that. Or at least you told me you did.

"You can ask but I won't tell, Sy. I never did." That's true. She never told anyone about the thing we had going for two or three years, before I was pulled off the CIA and back into Special Operations Command, to have a watchful eye on that green young Lieutenant, fresh out of the first half of fighter school.

However, if she never told and _I_ never told… how exactly did the guys back at Langley know that I'd be the right person to be put on her trail, huh? Jesus fucking Christ, I am seriously fed up with this. I really shouldn't have picked up the phone that day. Instead, I should have gone AWOL for real. At least then I could _really_ disappear from everyone's radar.

But I did. And I have to face the consequences. "Come on, Tali, if we're in this together… we need to _work_ together… as a team." That was… risky.

"Are we?" Fuck. "In this together, I mean." Fuck, fuck, fuck. She's got me. She _knows_ that I'm here on orders. She _has_ to know I'm here on orders.

Okay, play it cool, Dee, just play it cool. "Course we are. I wouldn't be here if we weren't." Nope, wasn't enough. Right. I've got one more. "Besides, if you haven't lost your touch, you double-checked my story. And then went back to triple-check it. You haven't lost your touch now, have you?"

That's right, go for her ambition. And… there you go. "Sneaky, Sy. _You_ certainly haven't lost your touch, either. I really thought they'd turned you, those losers on that "team" you were with."

Calm, Dee. Cool and calm. She can't hurt you, she can't hurt the team. She just never learned how to rely on other people, how to trust them… it's not her fault. They bred it out of her in the CIA, what little ability to trust people she had. She's just another victim. "I'm offended, Tali. Don't ypu remember who was the guy who _never_ got turned in training?"

"Good point," she says and grins. Yeah, that's right. That guy was me. Because I never stopped believing that you _always_ have a choice, I always chose not to be a traitor, not to turn anyone in, not to be turned around myself… even if the exercise ended with "Bang, you're dead, soldier."

When did I stop being that guy?

"Come on, Sarge, we gotta go." Right. Yes. We have to.

Trying not to keep on wondering what the hell happened and why the hell I chose to go on this mission, I pick up the backpack and leave the hut I'd shared with her for the last three days. It's gonna be a hike of a couple of miles, deeper into the mountains so she can set up shop to contact a couple of people with money and with a healthy interest in a lot of secrets that should never see the light of day instead of scruples. Well, or not, if I do my job right.

And so we set off and even though I know it may be futile, given what I know about the Major and how he usually reacts when he thinks someone betrayed his trust, I slip a short piece of thin rope with three knots tied into it over the inside of the door handle. Maybe they'll never see it. Maybe someone else will find it and throw it away or put it somewhere else where it doesn't make any sense at all. Maybe they _will_ come here but overlook it… but I have to try, don't I?

Damn… I wish I could drop more hints like those I left at the SGC. Precise and still small enough people would leave them alone, unless they were searching specifically for them, and the guys back at Langley most probably made sure no MP or JAG or even intelligence officer would feel compelled to do that. My team, well, that could be a different stor…

Oh, okay, actually, I know I should wish I'd just stop thinking about dropping hints for the team… stop thinking about the team _at all_. I swear, I really do wish I could just go back to my loner days with the CIA. At least then all of this wouldn't be so fucking _painful_.

_Moore_

It's staring at me. I swear it is.

Or, okay, maybe _I_ am staring at _it_ … No, it's staring at me. The bundle of papers in the folder Laura threw on my desk is staring at me with glittering evil little eyes. Or it would if it _had_ eyes.

Anyway, it's sitting there, daring me to open it but I know I won't. Because, see, it'll just be a load of bullshit. I know it will. The girls might think they know Dee but they don't. I, however, _do_. I know I said it before but clearly, he _doesn't want to be found_. If he wanted to be found, he wouldn't have just gone AWOL without leaving any message at all. If he'd left a message I'd have found it, I'm positive of that. There's no way I could have overlooked something.

Well, or there would be if I'd actually gone looking for any messages. I… never really did, though.

And I sure as hell won't start now, you offending piece of fucking paper. I _know_ that my Sergeant has some secret government history that's not even in the parts of his records that only I on this entire so top secret base that it doesn't even exist for most of the Pentagon brass am allowed to read. So I have every reason to suspect that it has something to do with that past and he _knows_ that I don't want to have anything to do with it. I've got enough skeletons in the closet as it is.

And until now, it was _never_ an issue. He never talked about anything of that stuff he did before we started to work together and I never asked, and it was a silent mutual understanding that it would stay like that, for however long we'd serve together. And no, I still don't wish it would have been different because as much as I didn't want to hear it, I also somehow always knew he didn't want to _tell_ me. That alone was reason enough not to ask.

But, well, it also means… it also means I never really got to know my Sergeant… the person I have worked closest with and been through the toughest shit, and that's including Laura, Lorne and Williamson.

 _Goddammit_. Why can't it be simple? Why couldn't it have been desertion – as unlikely as that seems for someone like Dee, granted – and the MP could have just caught him and I could have found a way to get him out of jail and we would have been done with it? But _no_ , it had to be the vanishing act, leaving behind only stuff my girls are setting their hearts on, out of foolish wishful thinking.

And now one of them threw a folder on my desk that's still kind of glaring at me and daring me to open it and I'm so thoroughly fed up with all of this that I have just decided to get out of this fucking office – maybe paperwork _will_ do itself, just for once – and hit the workout room. God, I really need to punch something so fucking bad.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

_Moore_

God, that's good. I really needed that. Okay, I still do. Which is why I'm still giving the fucking sandbag the beating of a lifetime. One more… one more… one… _fuck_ , I need that. I need the raw pain in my hands when the wrapped up knuckles hit the sandbag and I need the sound they make on impact and I need the burning in my muscles.

From the feel of it I must have been at it for at least an hour but quite frankly, it feels like it isn't near enough to compensate for all the shit that's been going on since Dee went away. To compensate for all the anger and frustration and disappointment he left behind. To compensate for the girls grabbing at every little straw they can get, just because they think it'll make him come back.

To compensate for the hurt look in Laura's eyes I saw just for a moment when word came through that Dee went AWOL and is considered a deserter until further notice.

Fuck.

Panting the punching comes to an abrupt stop when I realize that he broke her heart without me even realizing it. Crap, I should have seen it coming. I've _seen_ the looks and the smiles and even once or twice a little touch to shoulder or the arm. I should have _known_ what was behind Laura's zeal in making me look into that folder. Of course she's concerned for a teammate and a friend and everything but… there's something more personal behind it and really… I'm an idiot.

She's my best friend and until now I didn't even consider what Dee's absence might have done – _really_ done – to her… or what it might have done to Reece. I know they were spending time off-duty, doing God knows what – Laura said Dee was trying to make an officer out of her without her actually noticing and quite frankly, Dee might have been the only one actually capable of that – and I didn't even think about the fact that trying to look for clues was the girls' way of coping.

 _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

With renewed energy, I have another go at the sandbag, this time even maybe trying to make it disintegrate from the sheer blast of my punches. I'd have hit myself, if that were really possible, but the sandbag is okay for now. Another one… another one… "Whatever did the poor sandbag do to you, Tom?"

What… No, that wasn't Laura's voice. I must be hallucinating. Yes, that's it. That was just a figment of my imagination, induced by the loss of fluids in the last hour. Come to think of it… should drink someth… no, shouldn't. Because when I just turned for the bottle, I saw the girls standing in the middle of the workout room and I'm not in the mood for hallucinations, not even persistent and quite real ones.

"No, Tom, we're _not_ a figment of your imagination. Do everyone a favor and stop beating the crap our of that poor sandbag." Okay, if this _is_ a hallucination… alright, no, it's not, as much as I wish it were. It's Laura and Reece and God help me, I don't care if this is a public place, if they keep badgering me again, I _will_ resort to shouting again. Coping mechanism be damned.

Reaching for that water bottle after all, I eye them with enough pissed off energy that Reece actually flinches a little. Or at least I like to tell myself that she did. After a really nice long sip, I can muster up, "Sandbag started it."

 _Almost_ snorting. I'm pretty sure that's what Laura just nearly did, as opposed to Reece's frown. What? It really did. Kinda. Anyway… "Really funny, Tom. Now… did you look at the files I gave you?"

Would she just _stop_ with that crap already? Of course I didn't. The fact that I'm _here_ is testament to that, isn't it? And can't they just… stay away from me? Why did they have to take those last steps up to me? "What do you think, huh?"

"You didn't." What? Reece? "Sir. You didn't, _sir_." And she's still frowning at me. Actually, the frown _deepened_.

"Damn right I didn't, Lieutenant. And you know why?" Mh. Maybe that was a stupid thing to say, judging from the clouds that seem to build up over the girls' heads.

"No, but I'm sure you're gonna tell us." Of course, Laura. Hopefully, it'll also make you leave me alone again.

Grabbing a towel, I huff, "Look, guys… I know you need to cope and everything…"

" _Cope_?" Disbelief on both faces. Is it really so hard to grasp that even I do have a basic knowledge of psychological terms? "Seriously, Tom? You think this is about _coping_?"

About what _else_ , huh? "Yeah, sure I do. I mean, he was your friend and everything and everyone copes differently and…"

"Beg pardon, sir, but Sergeant DeLisle is not _dead_." Really? How do you know, huh? "He went AWOL and quite frankly, we think something… is fishy about this."

 _Excuse_ me? "Fishy, Lieutenant? There's nothing fishy about my Sergeant having gone AWOL. He's gone and that's it."

Wait… what is that… thing between her eyebrows? That deep furrow there. I'm pretty sure I haven't seen it before, and I'm pretty sure she was pissed at me before. She never let it _show_ , though. Mh… "With all due respect, sir, it's _not_. I don't know about you but the Dee _I_ know would never just bail. He'd…"

"That's the point, Lieutenant. You _don't_ know him." But I do. I damn well do, _okay_? "You have _no_ idea where he's coming from and what he did before we started working together. For that matter, I don't either but I do know _one_ thing…"

"He'd never betray his team. Sir." Dammit, Reece! "I… sir… quite frankly… I think…"

A cough from Laura now. Huh? "Maureen, actually, why don't we…"

"No, Laura. I'm really…" a deep breath and why am I suddenly afraid of what might come? "Quite frankly, sir, I'm really fed up with your whole attitude about this and _quite frankly_ I think you're just totally fucking wrong about the whole damn thing and that you're letting a fucking friend down and that's about the worst crap I ever heard in my entire fucking life. If you'll pardon my French, sir."

Wow. That is… about… the longest speech I probably ever heard from her since meeting her the first time. And… wow, that was certainly an interesting amount of the f-word in there, most of all considering the very controlled, calm tone. However, that is certainly _no way_ to talk to your superior. "Lieutenant, while I realize that you and Captain Greenspan are still upset over Sergeant DeLisle's absence I will not tolerate…"

" _Goddammit_." What…

 _Holy fucking crap what the hell did just happen_?

"I am _not_ upset about Sergeant DeLisle's absence, sir, I am fucking livid about your stupid thick headedness and I can't believe I actually _stuck up_ for you around Laura and I will… I will… I need to… excuse me, please." Holy shit, did First Lieutenant Maureen Catrina Reece just _punch_ me, in the fucking _face_? Did she? Honestly? And did she just _bail_ on me?

I blink – and barely register that she must have hit me with quite some force because I can already feel a shiner coming on – and _then_ it registers. She just hit her fucking CO and I will most certainly _not_ … "I'll take care of it, Tom." _What_? "I mean it. Leave her… leave her be. Let _me_ take care of it."

"Laura, she just…"

"I _know_ what she did Tom, and quite honestly, if she hadn't done it, _I_ would have had. So don't you _dare_ pressing charges against her. And let me take care of her." Is she just… what…

I blink again and _fuck_ it's starting to hurt. "She just punched her _CO_ , goddammit!"

"Yes, and I just said I would have done the same thing, you idiot. And you _deserve_ it." I do _not_ … "If you'd just _listen_ to us, you asshole, this would never have happened. So just goddamn _do_ it. And let me handle Maureen. If _you_ do it… it's only gonna get worse, trust me."

Fuck, I haven't ever heard so much nonsense from her ever before. "What do you mean, it's gonna get _worse_? How much worse can it _get_?"

She just crosses her arms in front of her chest and just gives me a telling look. _What_? "Remember last time I told you to let me handle something and you didn't? Remember how that went?"

Yes, in fact it went very, very…

Bad.

It really went pretty _bad_.

I run a hand through my sweat soaked hair. Just… fuck.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. So… permission to take care if the issue, _sir_?" Damn, I hate it when she sirs me. When she does that… the shit just hit the fan.

I sigh, not looking at her. "Yeah. Go ahead, Captain."

Then I hear the sound of her boots echo out of the room… and hit the sandbag with one last well placed punch. _Fuck_.

_Greenspan_

_Fuck_. That went even worse than I imagined. But… yeah… seeing Maureen hit Tom squarely in the face was… gratifying, somehow. When I told Tom that I would have done if she hadn't, I wasn't lying. I was absolutely, stone cold serious. And I'll tell her so… provided I can actually _find_ her.

Damn, I know she's got a little hidey hole, somewhere up on that damn Mountain and I'm pretty sure she's right on her way there. Of course, if I had let Tom handle it… he would have known exactly where to find her because I _know_ that he did once. Neither of them actually _told_ me but I've got my ways. So… where to find her?

Where… ah, thank God. There she is, running right up to the next elevator… "Maureen, wait!" Come on, just… no, don't call that damn elevat… "I mean it, Maureen. Please…" Breaking out in a run, I barely manage to catch her before she can take the lift.

Huffing a little, I say again, "I got a better idea than holing yourself up on that Mountain."

She doesn't look at me, avoids my eyes. "What, handing in my government issue right now?"

Yeah, well, that is a very good question, actually. However, the moment Tom decided to let me handle it, he also decided he wouldn't press charges and find a different way to solve it. She just doesn't know him well enough to realize that yet. "No. Listen, Maureen…"

She frowns again. "I made a mistake, I _know_ that, okay? I don't need _you_ to rub it in as well…"

"I would have done the same thing." She's about to say something again but then does a double-take. Yes, I just told you I would have hit my commanding officer.

She blinks. "You would?"

Trying to hold back a grin, I nod. "Yeah. If you hadn't planted that argument right in his face, _I_ 'd have done it. Thanks for doing so."

Mh. She doesn't really trust me, yet, from the looks of it. "You… realize that you as my superior officer just thanked me for committing a capital offense against the UCMJ against my _other_ superior officer, right?"

Okay. For some reason this is just too damn funny. I snort. "Yeah, I do. Now, we can keep standing here and talking the UCMJ… or we can get to do some real work. Which one is going to be, Lieutenant?"

There's a moment of contemplation – _real_ contemplation, as far as I can see – and then she says, "Let's go do some real work."

Can't help grinning now. "There's a good little Marine. So, I have this idea…" and while I tell her about my plan to bust the code lock on Dee's door, we walk through the Mountain, grab my laptop and make our way to Dee's quarters. Yeah, something tells me that the next piece of the puzzle we need is in there and dammit, it can't be _that_ hard to pick a damn electronic lock.

Of course this would be a lot easier if Tom were the one doing the picking but since he decided to be an ass, we'll have to do without him. So we set to work, both trying our hand at code encryption but… why is that damn lock being so fucking _stubborn_? "You stupid thing, why can't you just _open_?" I mutter for the umpteenth time and immediately hear Maureen agree and then…

"Because you're not letting a professional do it."

What the _hell_? What's _Tom_ doing here all of a sudden? And isn't that a really nice shade of pink Maureen's face just turned into? Oh… it's almost as nice as the shiner forming around Tom's left eye. Oh God, must not laugh, must not… ah, diversionary tactics. "You were less than enthusiastic about even _opening_ the _folder_ I gave you."

Yeah, good one. Hurt him right into the guts. Someone just realized what he did wrong? "I had... my reasons."

For a moment, I'm tempted to cut him some slack…but then I remember that he treated me first like an annoying bitch and then like someone who was grasping straws. This isn't over by a long shot, Tom. "No, you had your stupid wounded pride." He's about to disagree, I'm sure about that but we got a lot more important things to do ourselves. "Now can you open that door or not?"

He looks at the lock intently for a moment – and is it just me or is he doing a very big conscious effort of avoiding to look at _Maureen_? – and then says with determination, "Gimme that laptop."

Immediately backing away, Maureen lets him grab the laptop and then he takes out a small knife from inside his boots, fumbles around the lock with it and… how did he know there was a USB port in _that_ place under _that_ plate? And how come he caries around a lone USB cable in his leg pocket?

Questions over questions… And okay, quite frankly, it's always amazing watching him when he's working his magic, hands flying over the keyboard, an almost feral grin on his face… "There you go." What… holy crap, the fucking door just _opened_. And the grin turned from feral into downright self-satisfied. "Piece of cake." Yes, okay… "Walk in the park." And that, too, okay… "Easier than…"

Oh Jeez. " _Yes_ , we _got_ it, thank you very much."

Still grinning like mad. "You absolutely should." Then he gets up from his crouching position and pushes the door open wide enough for us to enter one after another and then he does look at Maureen. "After you, Lieutenant."

With a still pink face, she doesn't say a word and simply scurries past him into the room. Not waiting for Tom to invite me in, too, I simply follow her and… well, let's see what we can find.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

_Reece_

What _exactly_ did possess me to do _that_? Why, in hell, did I think it was a _good_ idea to plant my fucking _fist_ in my CO's face? And why did I think it had to be with so much force that there's a shiner forming around his face and my knuckles actually hurt?

Mh.

Maybe because he was being, and I can't believe I'm even only _thinking_ this, a major asshole, no pun intended. And maybe because I can't bear being treated in that stupid condescending macho way. Coping mechanism my _ass_. Idiot. And what the hell is he doing on a chair, knocking against the ceiling panels?

"Uh, Tom…" ah, apparently, Laura thinks the same thing, "what the hell are you _doing_ there?"

He looks down at her with a pointed look. "Same thing _you_ are doing, obviously." Far as I can see… _no_? Because, you know, Laura and I are doing normal things. We're going through desks, drawers, looking under the bed…

"Most obviously _not_. _We_ are looking for Dee's laptop." Or just basically any hint, to be honest. So far, however, we didn't… huh? What _is_ he doing there? Why is he using another of his knives – I have honestly no idea where he pulled _that_ one from and I kinda don't _want_ to know, either – as a lever to loosen one of the panels… oh.

"Like I said, I'm doing exactly the same thing you were doing. Only," insert stupid cocky grin when holding the elusive laptop in his hand here, "much more successful than you."

Okay, that was… kind of impressive. Actually, impressive enough that Laura feels compelled to ask, "How the hell did you know it was _there_?"

Oh. Suddenly the grin is gone and he… doesn't look at either of us. Instead he carefully gets off the chair he'd been standing on and shrugs, saying, "Guess who taught me that kind of thing."

Well, who did indeed? Alright, stupid question. And the answer to that again makes me wonder why in _hell_ the Major thought it was a good idea to pretend nothing happened after Dee was gone. I mean… apparently, Dee is the guy he learned practically everything he needed in the field from and he _really_ thought it's okay not to try and find out what actually _happened_?

Oh, okay. Calm down, Marine. He's here and that's more than he did the entire two weeks since Dee was gone. Also, _you_ aren't one to talk, given your sudden tendencies to violent outbursts.

Alright. Back to work. "So… what are we gonna do with it?" Good question, Laura. One I would have asked myself… if I wouldn't feel so tongue-tied with the Major in the room.

"Well," he says making a face, "I have no idea what _you_ are gonna do with it but _I_ will have a look at it tonight at home." Laura's starting to say something – probably reminding him of the fact that we might be on the clock here – but he shakes his head and something in his posture changes… very subtly, but it's there. He's in mission mode now. "Too dangerous, Laura. Remember the little bug sweep we did beforehand?" She nods. "That's what I thought."

"But you're not gonna do it _alone_." Yes, that's right, give him hell. Or, no, wait… that would mean I'd have to be in the same room with him again and oh God, I do _not_ want that _that_.

And from the look of it, the Major isn't really happy about the suggestion, either. "There's no need for the both of you to sit around my place while I…"

"There's _every_ need for us to sit down together at some secure place and talk this _through_." Mh. I knew Laura cares a lot about this whole thing but I am starting to get a little weirded out by how much she's apparently burning to get into action here. But then again… it's kind of understandable. I just hope the Major never made the connections I made.

"Look, Laura… dammit, Reece, don't _you_ have an opinion about this as well?" What? Why is he talking to _me_ now? "Or is _that_ all you have to say about the matter?" Oh goody, and now he actually acknowledged the shiner by _pointing_ at it. Is it just me or did it just get uncomfortably _warm_ in here? And could Laura please stop _grinning_? "Well?"

"Actually, sir…" Stop looking at me like that. "I think…" _Stop looking at me like that_! "I think Captain Greenspan is right." Oh right, _now_ you stop looking at me with those raised eyebrows, as if I were a kid that is not to be trusted to have something grown-up to say. And hello again… consternation. What? Is it so hard to grasp that yes, I might actually have an opinion myself? After everything that happened? Seriously?

There's another moment of silence and then… the Major does surprise me. "Alright. 1800 at my place, be sure you aren't followed." Okay, he actually surprised _us_ by saying that.

Enough that even Laura is speechless for a moment, that is. "Laura?"

She blinks. "Yes?"

"Bring that folder you dumped on my desk. Reece?" What? Oh.

"Yes, sir?"

"You find a cover story. I've got a feeling _we_ might have to go AWOL, too and I'm not in the mood for having to get the MP off my back before starting some real work. Make it a good one." Of course. Cover story. I can do that. Good thing I went to a couple of Creative Writing classes at college, just for fun. That's gonna be a cake walk.

I clear my throat, trying not to show a starting feeling of being overwhelmed. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Then he takes another look around and… oh, mission face. "Go on, get _moving_."

And with that, I nearly scramble up from Dee's bed and well, I _am_ kind of glad he dismissed us because I'm not sure how much longer I could have stayed in the same room with him. So when we're in the hall way again, I can't help breathing a sigh of relief.

"Well," I suddenly hear Laura say, "that could have gone worse, couldn't it?"

Yeah, um, well… "You mean considering the fact that he could have also bellowed the crap out of me?"

Oh great and now she just snorted. "Yeah, considering that." She looks pretty much amused… am I the only one not finding this funny? "Don't worry, I don't think Tom can laugh about it, either." Oh, and that's supposed to be _reassuring_? "Okay, yet. Seriously, trust me, Maureen, he _knows_ he screwed up and he knows _very much_ he deserved it. Knowing Tom…" and there's a weird pause and suddenly… she looks a lot more serious again, "knowing Tom, he'd have hit himself if that had been possible."

Mh. Oh. I never… but, yeah, I should have… I should have known that all the irritation and the seeming indifference are just there to distract us – and probably himself, as well – from a deep seated disappointment and hurt at Dee just having disappeared on him. And I'm pretty sure the Major really thought Dee disappeared on _him_. I take a deep breath. "You're… right. Of course you're right. I'm… Laura, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have…"

She grins. _What_? "Oh yes, you should. With Tom, "giving someone a kick in his ass to get him moving" has to be taken literal often enough. I think… you actually did him a favor."

"Uh… excuse me?" Because… huh?

"You did him a favor. Do you honestly think Tom would have stopped that stupid hurt pride thing if he hadn't gotten an excuse from having to lose face?" Mh… no.

"Alright. I see what you mean. I just… I _am_ sorry about hitting him. I mean it's obvious that he…"

"Maureen… one of the things I really like in you is that you always jump to everyone's defense, if you think they need it, regardless of who they are." Why do you make it sound like that's a bad thing then? "But what you did to Tom… that _was_ jumping to his defense, in a way. And most of all jumping to _Dee_ 's. Trust me, when we tell him, he'll be very proud of you."

Uh… yeah, right. Uh-huh. Totally. "That… just sounded very weird and very twisted."

Laura takes a moment to think. Then, "Yeah, it really did. Okay, come on, we got two more hours. Let's get to work, huh?" I nod. "Alright… I need to double-check a couple of things… you'll be at your office?" Nodding again. "Okay, I'll pick you up in 90. Move it."

Yeah, she really does want to solve this. So I humor her and just throw her a casual salute and a "Yes, ma'am!" before starting getting on my way to my office for the cover story. That's so gonna be fun…

_Moore_

Who would have thought. I wasn't the only one learning something. Apparently Dee _listened_ when I rambled on about IT security… and he actually _used_ what I told him. And being Dee, he had to _perfect_ it before using it. Which is why I've been trying to crack his locks and codes for several hours now while the girls tried to do what I told them to.

Laura, for example, is still very taken with the whole chemical formula on post-its thing while Reece is now working on perfecting the cover story… which she said she'll only tell us when she's done with it. Groaning, I lean back in the arm chair I've been occupying while Reece is lying on the couch, her feet up and a note pad against her legs and Laura is sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch with her back.

"Still got nothing, Tom?" she says, not even looking up from her puzzle of post-its on the coffee table.

I sigh. "No. I mean, I cracked a couple more doors but… it's gonna take me at least six more hours to get where I want to go." Which means I'll be done by… oh, crap, it's 0100. We've been at it for seven fucking hours. Seven fucking hours for almost _nothing_. I look at my girls again. Laura… positively looks like she'd just have to close her eyes and she'd be asleep and Reece… I'm pretty sure she even _is_ asleep. Oh.

Alright. As much as we need to get _somewhere_ … I'm still responsible for my team's welfare. "Laura?"

She looks up again, blinking and rubbing her eyes. "Mh?"

"You know… let's call it a night." For a moment she looks like she actually has problems sorting out what I just said.

Then she vehemently shakes her head. Well, as vehemently as you can shake your head when you're as exhausted as she must be. "No, I'm _this_ close… Tom, I'm pretty sure I found out where he went right after he disappeared."

I sigh again. "And that's really great and everything… but it won't be of any use if you're too tired to stand on your feet." When she's about to protest, I try to drag up a little bit of the CO. "It's bed for you, Captain."

"But…"

" _No_ buts. Come on. You know where to crash." _Again_ she wants to protest and that's enough, young lady. " _Move_."

After trying to glare at me – _try_ being the operative word – she gets up grumbling and a little sluggishly. She moves to wake up Reece but for some reason… I can't help saying, "I'm gonna take care of her. Now get going."

She narrows her eyes. "I don't think I should let you…"

"I _said_ I will take care of her. I won't botch it, I promise. But for Heaven's sake, _please_ get your ass to the guest room." Come on, I even said the p-word. And I did let you handle Reece right after giving me that shiner that everyone will ask me about for at least four weeks now.

Not quite convinced yet, Laura throws another look at the sleeping Reece and somehow… for some reason… I'm even a bit touched by how protective Laura became of Reece in the last couple of months. It's almost as if she finally found the little sister she never had. So it's not surprising that she then glares at me again and murmurs, "No botching. It's a promise."

I nod. "It is. Now…"

"Yeah, _yeah_. Night, Tom." Can't help grinning now. Laura might be one of those annoying morning persons but she's grumpier than Oscar the Grouch when she hasn't had enough sleep.

"Night, Laura. Pancakes tomorrow?" For a moment her face lights up and then she just nods and pads up to my guest room. Yeah, you love my pancakes. They all do. I'm pretty sure even Reece did last time the team stayed overnight. She probably was just too terrified to say anything about my cooking. However… that might be over with now.

God, that punch… whoever taught her – probably Laura as well, since I know her punches – must have really put effort in that. Oh well… gotta wake up Muhammad Ali now. Hopefully without getting punched again.

I put the laptop back on the coffee table and get up, take the two steps over to the sofa and… gently touch her shoulder. Yes, gently. I _tried_ to be no-nonsense but… you wouldn't believe how frail her shoulders look up close and personal. However… gently didn't really seem to have done the trick since she just stirred a bit, sighed in her sleep and… kept sleeping. Oh God, I hope she _never_ makes that sound again… like _ever_. It was just… it was… it did… strange things to… my heart.

Okay, this is neither the time nor the place for any of this. Actually, there never will be either a time or a place for any of this. Get a fucking _grip_ on yourself, you idiot. Taking a deep breath, I try the touching her shoulder thing again, this time with an added, "Hey, Kid, rise and shine."

She stirs again… and then she slowly opens her eyes, blinks… "Oh, fuck, sorry, sir. I must have… I'm sorry. I just need a moment…"

"Relax, Lieutenant. Work's over for now." She blinks again.

"It is? Then why…" Why I woke you up? No idea, actually. You slept on my couch once, you could totally do it again. Uh… but I _do_ need a reason or this will look very strange to her.

I clear my throat. "Wake you up?" She nods and slowly swings her legs down to get in a sitting position. And then it occurs to me. This is probably… the best time to talk about that shiner I'll get in a long time. So in a kind of a spur of the moment decision I sit down next to her. "Well… to be honest, I'd like to talk to you about something and now's just as good as any time."

She frowns, with sleep still kind of veiling her gaze. Oh God. "Sir?"

Right. Just… don't look at her. Then that cute little frown and the sleepy eyes won't do you any harm. "Lieutenant…"

"Yes, sir?" Do _not_ look at her.

Because if you _do_ , you'll never be able to say _this_ , "What you did in that workout room… that was physically assaulting a superior officer."

In the silence that ensues, I can actually _hear_ her swallow. Then there's a simple, "Yes, sir."… and that's it.

Now I have to look at her after all and what I see is… a picture of misery. Oh _don't_. I swear, it's gonna be way less painful than you thought it would be. Look at me again, please? Or, okay, maybe you will when I tell you what I already had prepared when I walked in on Laura and you trying to bust that lock, "Or… it would have been if it hadn't been part of an exercise in unarmed combat."

Ah, jackpot. She's looking at me, frowning again, this time in surprise and disbelief. "Sir?"

"We were in the workout room and there was talk about sandbags and beating the crap out of something. It could as well have been an exercise in unarmed combat." She's not _really_ convinced but I think she knows what I'm trying to get at because she's smart like that.

However, she takes a moment to answer. In the end, she says, "That's… thank you, sir. But… but you don't need to cover anything up on my behalf. I know that I made a mistake and I will face the conseque…"

"There will _be_ no consequences." Did I say she's smart? I'm starting to doubt that. "No one apart from me and Laura saw you doing that and I'm pretty sure Laura told you that you made no mistake at all and actually did what needed to be done. Repeatedly. Didn't she?"

In what's pretty much a thoughtful way she shortly bites her lower lip and then concedes, "Yes. Yes, she did."

Alright… now comes the hard part. "And as much as we both probably don't want to believe it… she was right. I won't exactly _thank_ you for the shiner but… yeah someone needed to do that. You just had the misfortune of _being_ that someone." And then I remember something else. "Besides… I'd say you finally mastered a very important piece of Marine culture and tradition, Kid."

Incomprehension all around. What, no idea what I'm talking about? "What would that be, sir?"

Yep, really no idea. So I give her the answer, not being able to hold back a grin, "Easy. Swearing."

For a moment, there's still incomprehension… and then she kind of joins me in that grin, even though she's blushing a little. Well, no reason to be modest, Lieutenant, you really did live up to the Corps long standing tradition of using expletives in every other sentence. However, she doesn't say anything to that, instead she says, "So… we're… I mean you're… okay?"

Oh damn, can't help quietly laughing now. "Yeah, _we_ 're okay. Just maybe… lay off the real unarmed combat exercises for a while. That's one department you obviously _don't_ need improvement in."

Somehow… whatever I said or did, it did make her loosen up a little again. There's a timid little smile and then she says, "Yes, sir." And _then_ … she surprises me, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Oh would she just _stop_ asking that every time she wants to give me her opinion on something? "For God's _sake_ , Kid!"

She seems to have taken the hint, though, because the next thing she says is a rather cryptic, "Thank _God_."

Huh? "What?"

"Thank _God_ you came to your senses. Sir." Oh, right, there she goes again. Every time I think she went back to that mousy way of hers from a couple of months back, she does something to totally throw me off-guard. And she did it _twice_ now in _one_ day.

Time to put a temporary stop to that. "Don't overdue it, Lieutenant."

"Of course not, sir. I would never do that." How can she… be so _straight_ faced and _earnest_ when saying something like that and _still_ look like she's mocking me?

Can't help being a little rough now. "Off to bed, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," she says, sounding sufficiently dutiful and keen when she nearly jumps up and takes a couple of steps… until she turns around again, looking a little clueless. "Uh, sir?"

Um, yes? "What is it…" Oh. Oh, right, she usually sleeps on the couch. But… my gaze just fell on the laptop and… the living room might be occupied for a couple more hours, so… uh… "Upstairs, first room to the right, Kid."

Now she looks wholly perplexed. "Ex… excuse me?"

Oh, wait. She has never actually _been_ upstairs. I try to sound casual. "My bedroom." Do _not_ look at me like I'm an old pervert who just suggested very improper things. Yes, I _saw_ you making that face, even if you made it for just about a second. But, okay, maybe an explanation would still be a good idea. I sigh. "I figured that since you and Laura got a head start… I need to use as much time as I can to catch up with you."

Frowning again. _What_? "Yes, but… you… I mean… it's _your_ …"

Oh, _that's_ the issue. She thinks she doesn't _deserve_ a good night's sleep in a real bed instead of my crappy couch or on the floor in my study. Well, we can easily remedy _that_. "It's okay, Lieutenant. There's fresh sheets on my bed, in case you've been worried."

Aw, isn't it just _cute_ how she suddenly blushed at me indicating that completely different things might be cause to her doubts? "Oh, no, sir, honestly, I wasn't questioning your… I didn't mean to… I just don't have any…" What?

Ah. Right. "Second drawer to the left."

"Sir?" Does she really have to ask about _everything_? And is it really so hard to grasp I might be able to guess what people's issues are, just now and then?

Again, I can't help sighing. "T-shirts and track pants. They won't fit you but it's better than nothing."

Blushing again, she simply nods and has the good grace to say, "Thank you, sir."

Can't help giving her a little half-smile. She's kinda cute when she's being first clueless and then overwhelmed. "You're welcome."

She just nods and turns to go… only to turn around again. What is it _now_? "Really?"

Huh, what… oh, right. Ah, Kid when will you _ever_ believe that I'm only half as heartless as people make me out to be? Still smiling I confirm to her, "Yeah, really. _Now_ off to bed, Lieutenant."

She nods. "Yeah. Uh." For a moment she looks like she's considering telling me, in that ass-backwards way she sometimes uses when dealing with me, to go to bed myself but in the end she leaves it at, "Night, sir?"

Yeah. Maybe in a couple of hours. However, I don't think I need to tell her that. So I simply leave it at, "Night, Kid," and she turns finally away to make her way up to my bedroom.

Well then… all I'll have to do for the rest of the night is cracking Dee's last couple of security measures… and fighting off the mental images of Maureen Reece in my bed… wearing one of my USAFA Falcons shirts. Oh crap. That's gonna be a very long n… no, wait, it's gonna be a cake walk. Yeah. Easy as pie this one. Every bit of that. Yeah. Absolutely.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

_DeLisle_

Okay. Either I'm growing old or… or I'm just growing old. I'd never admit that to anyone but after so many years, I suddenly seem to be unable to spend a spring night outside in the Rocky Mountains. I think I must have frozen something off – probably my ass, and yes, I know that this is a joke so stupid not even the Major would have made it – and I don't think my back ever hurt so much before. And I had a lot of backache introducing incidents since I went to serve.

And quite honestly, all those little issues didn't make it exactly easier to keep up patience at what the hell she's actually hoping to accomplish with burying deeper and deeper into the Rocky Mountains. She's keeping me in the dark and whenever I tried to find out what the hell she's carrying around in her backpack, she was there before I could even get my hands on it. Damn thing she worked in the same department that I did and knows the tricks of the trade just as well as I do.

I just hope I can find it out without having to kill her. It wouldn't be the first time I was ordered to partake in neutralizing an enemy element within the force – after all, that's exactly what counterintelligence does – but it's the first time that _I_ would have to do it. Back in the days, I was the pathfinder, the one that sniffed out the trail – figuratively and literally – and led the others to where they needed to go. And the sweeper, the one who covered the op and the retreat. The reason why my team never got caught was because I never allowed us to leave any traces.

That and that Noruega had such a good grip on the rest of the team that even senior agents were afraid enough of her that they'd do what she said. And what _I_ said, because she told them to. I never really found out what she demonstrated to them that they were so compliant but to _me_ she was just fascinating and funny and goddamn _hot_. She's still that but… she's also harder now, haunted, _paranoid_. I _know_ that she doesn't trust me – and that's not just because I was the one shooting at her and arresting her the last time we met – and I'm honestly starting to wonder why I'm not dead yet.

Currently, I'm also wondering where all that fitness went that I possessed when we went on missions together so many years back. I'm not exactly huffing and puffing while we're climbing up this mountain but I'm pretty sure the rest of my team would have a lot less difficulties to appear unfazed than I'm having.

My team. Damn. It just doesn't get any easier thinking about them and wondering if Laura and Reece have driven the Major to insanity yet or if _he_ managed to do that to _them_. He can stand his ground, true but the women are a veritable force of nature when being driven to extremes. And "extremes" are the Major's kind of normal. I don't think I'll ever stop missing them.

I sigh. "What, are you actually getting _old_ , Sergeant?" Right. But better that than suspecting the real reason for that sigh.

I try to smirk. "On the contrary. I'm a man in his prime, as you surely could see for yourself in the last couple of days, _Sergeant_." It's her turn to grin now. And I wonder how _Laura_ would react if _she_ got to see that side of me.

"Point taken. So… what do you think? Time for breakfast?" Absolutely. I mean, I'm not really hungry – haven't been ever since I got that heavily encrypted message telling me I needed to go hunting again, actually – but I just can't afford making her suspicious.

"Wouldn't mind a bite," I say shrugging and we both sit down on a rock, our backpacks placed on the ground next to us, leaning against the rock. We're sitting next to each other, looking out eastwards, the sun just starting to rise. For a moment, I find myself fervently wishing this was just a hiking tour of two old friends reliving their glory days.

But then I see her checking her passive surveillance equipment and I get reminded of what we're really here for. Or rather, I see a good moment to ask what we're really for here. "Tali?"

She looks up. "What?"

Come on. Smooth and casual. You can do that. "Just wondering… are you ever gonna tell me what I betrayed King and Country for or will you keep me in the dark for the entire time we're hiking through the woods here?"

Well. At least that was clear. She looks at me, with a strange expression in her eyes and for a moment it looks as if she knows _very well_ that I'm not here because of a message from _her_. Then… it gets even stranger. "Sy… can I ask a favor of you?"

I can't help raising my eyebrows but nod. "Sure."

She takes another moment to answer and when she does, she looks out over the trees, towards the pink sky that's slowly evolving into a spectacular sunrise. "Whatever happens, please don't let me fall into _their_ hands."

What… she knows why I'm here. She _has_ to know why I'm here. The only question that's left, though, is: why am I still alive? I swallow. "Tali…"

"I mean it, Sy." She's looking at me again, a weird intense… _gleam_ in her eyes. " _Whatever_ happens… everything is better than being at _their_ mercy. _Promise_ me."

Alright. She did change. She's _frightened_. And _shaken_. To her goddamn fucking _bones_. I might not be feeling for her what I felt when we were actually together and before she broke my heart but there's still… _something_. Loyalty, if you want to call it like that, and even though she probably doesn't even feel that anymore. "I… promise."

I'm half-waiting for a "thank you" – with all the strange things that just happened, it certainly wouldn't have been the strangest of all – but after another moment of awkward silence, there seems to go a jolt through her and she's back to cockiness and cynicism. "Alright, this is what I've got in store for you…"

_Greenspan_

Somehow… I think I've had better nights in Tom's guest room before. Usually, the reason why I can't get my eyes to open and the kinks in my neck are killing me is something bordering on a hangover. Usually, the reason for that is _not_ the fact that I couldn't sleep for half the night, even though I felt dead tired because I just couldn't stop tossing and turning.

Trying to clear my eyes again to be able to see more than just some blurred shapes, I traipse down the stairs to Tom's living room, expecting… not what I just found there. Tom lying on the couch, on his stomach, with one of his arms dangling down and half his face buried in one of the cushions. And no sign of Maureen to find anywhere. Huh. Must have been a _long_ night.

But where… "Laura?" _God_. I _hate_ that weird sixth sense they installed in him that makes him able to be aware of his surroundings even when he's _sleeping_.

I rub my eyes again. "Yeah. Where's…"

"Morning… oh. Am I late? Have you been awake for very long?" Ah. _There_ she is. Coming downstairs, too and… good _God_. Is that really one of Tom's Falcons t-shirts? And oversized track pants? And is he _staring_ at her? What the hell is going on here?

Also, if he isn't going to say anything, then I guess I'll have to. "Uh, no, we just woke up ourselves. Didn't we, Tom?"

Tom? _Didn't we_? "What… yeah. Just woke up. Gonna make… breakfast." Gee, Neanderthal much, Tom? Seriously, there was just the grunt missing… and the attempt at grapping her by the mess her curls are and dragging her to his bedroom… _back_ to his bedroom. Because if she didn't sleep on the couch and if she didn't sleep in the guest room and if she didn't sleep in the study… there's just one more room she could have slept in.

So it's just logical that the first thing I do after Tom has trudged off to the kitchen is to close in on her and whisper, "Please tell me you did _not_ sleep in Tom's bedroom."

She narrows her eyes and look at me even kind of defiant. "What if I did?"

Yeah. Well. What _if_ she did?

Oh right. It's ridiculous. He slept in the living room and she slept in his bedroom and he probably just had one of his weird chivalrous moments and she was the fortunate and _coincidental_ receiver of his rare generosity. Or maybe he just couldn't stop working and kept working straight through. I sigh. "Alright. Sorry. It's just been…"

"A hard night," she says and I can't help pulling a face.

"Yeah." I'm about to add something when I hear Tom clearing his throat from the direction of his kitchen and translated to English, this means he wants us to stop talking and get our asses over to his kitchen counter where he set down three table sets and keeps adding food. When I look at him, he adds a head jerk in the direction of the laptop and I guess that means I'm supposed to bring it with me. Alright.

I put the laptop on the table when Maureen sits down on one of the stools, running a hand over her face and trying to put a few stray locks behind her ears. He's doing his best and he even almost succeeds but I can still see that he's throwing her covert looks while putting orange juice and coffee on the table. I'm kind of hoping that we'll get more than that and couple of a day old English muffins, most of all because the pancakes were a damn _promise_ but… it doesn't look like I'll get them anytime soon because once Tom sits down, he powers on the laptop.

It boots faster than I'd have thought – seems to be a military grade Stone Age ThinkPad, but I guess it's probably virtually indestructible – and we get a rather dull looking SGC desktop. So far... nothing new there. I just raise my eyebrow and look at Tom... who throws back a rather mean look and takes a big gulp from his coffee mug. At least that means he'll be able to string more than two words together. "As you can see, I managed to break through a couple of code walls to get to his desktop. Please save the standing ovations for later." Wow, is there actually water in his coffee? Must be some kind of hell brew, seeing as he could utter two complete connected phrases.

I clear my throat and take a sip from the coffee mug he placed in front of me. "What did you find?"

He frowns. "Lots of stuff, actually. I just wish I knew what of that is important and what isn't."

Huh. That's not his standard performance. I frown myself and I'm pretty sure I even saw _Maureen_ make a rather incredulous face. Well, for her standards, that is. "Tom?"

With a little _almost_ startled jerk, he looks back at me. "Mh?"

Oh, Tom. I can't help sighing. "How long _did_ you stay up?"

He doesn't meet my eyes for another moment, scowls and I can see the exact moment when his gaze grazes Maureen because she visibly flinches. Not much but it's there and I roll my eyes. He's not _that_ bad. "None of your business, Greenspan." Okay, he _is_. I glare at him. "Stop doing that." _No_? "Okay, fine. Until about 0600." It's 0800 now. He slept a total of two hours. Oh, _Tom_.

Thank God, it's Sunday and we're not on call. Which is why I end up saying, "Okay, let's just… muddle through. And when we're done, you'll go upstairs and sleep for at least four more hours." He's about to tell me where to stick my "suggestion" but I'm not joking. We're about to embark on yet another only half-baked plan to rescue one of our own and we still know _nothing_ about who or what we're dealing with. "No buts, I'm pulling the medical officer card. Tell us what you found and then get your ass back to your bed."

Did he just mumble "Fuck the medical officer card"?

Well, actually, I hope he did. Instead of "Fuck _you_." I mean. Anyway. He's going to tell us now. "Fine. First thing I found were digital, very _detailed_ maps of the mountains around Springs." _Jack pot_. That's exactly what I found out, too, after turning the formulas on the post-its upside down and I'm about to confirm his assessment but he just continues, sounding dangerously tired, "Also a pack list and trust me, this is highly out of character for Dee. He's meticulous but he's got it all in his head. Sergeant Simon DeLisle doesn't need a fucking _list_ for his OCDness to be contented, oh no." Well. Lack of sleep is starting to get the better of Tom. Otherwise, he'd never have let his general anger show through so much in something that's highly akin to a briefing. "The last thing that seemed to be of importance… were a couple of cryptic messages in his e-mail inbox. That was really… weird."

Maureen and I both raise our eyebrows and I ask, "Care to explain _what_ was so weird about them?"

Tom runs a hand through his unruly morning hair and stares at the English muffin in his hand before apparently deciding against having a bite. "The sender. After a cracking a couple of encryption layers and tricking a couple of firewalls and proxies, I tracked it to a certain Catalina Noruega. Who should be rotting away in Fort Leavenworth or some nameless place looking suspiciously like Gitmo."

That… what? I swallow but try to look professional. "Could you track her location as well?"

He nods. "Not exactly a piece of cake, not even for me… but she was in Springs when she wrote her last three messages."

What the _hell_? It catches me so off-guard that I can't help swearing under my breath, before saying, "That doesn't make any sense. How can she be back in Springs and _why_ would she contact _Dee_ of all people? The guy who _shot_ her and _arrested_ her, for Heaven's sake!"

Okay. _Maybe_ I should try to get a grip on myself. I'm starting to get weird looks from Maureen _and_ Tom. "Ad one: no fucking idea. Ad two: no fucking idea, either. She's talking in some special lingo code they must have used at the Agency when they were both serving there and I have _no_ idea how she got out of wherever they kept her and why she chose to contact _Dee_ of all people."

Yeah. Beats the shit out of us, apparently, and… "I do." What? Maureen? "I mean, I do have an idea why she might have contacted Sergeant DeLisle." Tom is about to forcefully make her continue her train of thought and for a moment it looks like she'll back down again but I guess having had the opportunity to catch her omniscient CO unawares and manage to give him a black eye made her take a huge step forward. "Sergeants DeLisle and Noruega had… they were… they had something going on when they were still serving with the CIA."

What… how… _what_? "Whatever made you think _that_?" it just slips out and I'm sorry about my tone the moment I see Maureen recoil a little from _me_.

But she still soldiers on bravely. "He told me. When I went to apologize to him for blowing up at him after that survival exercise where he arrested Noruega."

Who would have thought. Dee and Maureen shared a little secret neither Tom nor I were aware of, even after both having served several years with him. It hurts, just a little and just for a moment. Then I'm kind of… happy about that. It means Maureen is starting to really settle down into the team. It would be reason to celebrate, if we weren't deep into discovering why the hell Dee left us. "Did he, by any chance, also tell you _anything_ that would make it possible to actually understand what they were _talking_ about in those e-mails, _Lieutenant_?"

Tom is starting to get pissed at her again. Does he _envy_ his little Lieutenant that she knows something about his trusty Sergeant that he didn't, most probably because he just never got his ass up to simply _ask_? Idiot. Maureen, on the other side, tries to keep her chin up and even manages to sound perfectly cool and calm when retaliating, "As long as I haven't actually seen them, sir, I can't make any statements about _that_. If you'd be so kind as to show them to me, I could see what I can do about translating them."

Mh. This is starting to look like a _showdown_. Did she really just start going head to head with _Tom_? "Okay. Fine. Have it your way, Kid."

Alright. Tom apparently was surprised enough about her attitude that he simply agreed, and don't let yourself be fooled by his defiant and slightly pissed tone. Right now, he's wax in her hands. "I… thank you, sir." And she doesn't have a _clue_ about it. Oh, Maureen.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome and all that. Now, I'm gonna point you to his inbox and then I'll head off to my bedroom. I expect you two to have sucked as much info out of those messages as possible when I come down again." With that, he pulls the laptop over in front of Maureen and shows her where to find the messages in question. Then he finally takes his leave and trudges up to his bedroom.

I smirk and turn to Maureen. "We've got our work cut out for us, huh?" All I get from her is just a noncommittal sound, while she's already fully engrossed in whatever's on that screen. Well. That leaves the mundane task of cleaning the table and doing the dishes for me. Rolling my eyes, I shrug. _Someone_ 's gotta do it, after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

_Reece_

Okay, so this is a lot better than what I'd been originally occupied with since convincing myself that it's totally normal to crawl into your CO's bed after a long night. I _tried_ to make it all seem normal and not much of a big deal, really, I _did_. But it was just… impossible. I'd thought rummaging around in the Major's drawers was the height of awkward but as it turned out, slipping beneath his sheets was _a whole new world_ of awkward.

He'd been right, they _were_ fresh and crisp and they smelled of softener and _goddammit_ , they also smelled like _him_. How I know that? Because I was surrounded by them and because there was something beneath the softener that was… male and distinctive and… it was the Major. It _had_ to be the Major and every time I thought I was imagining it, it was back in my nose and it was driving me _nuts_.

So thank God for cryptic e-mails between our loyal Sergeant and his con-artist ex-lover. That she _is_ a con-artist was the first thing I found out. The Major was right, she's using some special lingo and I'm not entirely sure if it's Agency lingo or if it's another very special brand Dee and she only used among themselves. But I could find out that she's planning something big. She's got something everyone seems to want and she's going to sell it to the highest bidder. As to _what_ that is… no idea.

Actually, I don't think it's even said in here. I sigh. This is more frustrating than that English – Japanese translation class at college that I nearly flunked. Also, it's way too early to be translating weird special lingo into English… "Coffee. I need coffee."

"There you go." What? Did I just say that out loud? I blink and stare at the mug of steaming hot coffee that suddenly appeared next to me, kind of out of thin air. Oh, no, wait, Laura must have put it there. Laura who's looking at me like I'm about to lose it… or maybe she's just wondering if I'll ever talk to her again instead of that Methuselah of a laptop. I make an apologetic face and turn back to the messages in front of me, taking a sip from the coffee mug. Maybe caffeine will work its magic and the letters will just arrange themselves into phrases that actually make sense… or maybe not. _Damn_.

"You know, Maureen, there's no shame in admitting that you're stuck." Mh? What… oh wait, she was talking to _me_.

And I am not _stuck_. Which is why I just keep staring at the screen and willing the messages to reveal their real content to me. It's gonna work, I know it. It's gonna work, just wait a moment. It's… never gonna work if I keep doing it like this. Groaning, I put my head on my arms on the table in front of me. "I'm taking that as an admission that you _are_ stuck." There is _no_ reason to be smug about it, Captain Greenspan.

However, there's also no reason to be a bitch, Lieutenant Reece. Alright. Soldier up, Marine. Trying not to make another sound of frustration, I straighten up again. "It's not that I'm _stuck_ ," stop looking at me with that "yeah, sure, uh-huh, who are you trying to kid" expression, "it's just that I could use a bit of… input."

"Input, uh-huh. Of which kind?" The "You don't happen to be able to read Dee's mind and that of his ex-lover, too, huh?" kind.

God, I should stop this. I'm starting to sound like the Major and honestly, that's someone no one wants to sound like. I can't help rubbing my eyes. "Just… some fresh ideas. I found out basically that she needs his help with something that doesn't seem exactly kosher but I have no idea what it could be and how she's wants to go about it." Oh, and another thing. "Also, there are a couple of other messages sent by someone else. Apparently, Major Moore didn't get to dig any deeper into them because decrypting Noruega's messages took all night but they definitely demand some looking into, as well."

She nods and comes round the kitchen counter, to have a look at the screen herself. I show her a couple of Noruega's messages but she seems to be drawing a blank on them as well. Then I go to the folder with the other equally cryptic messages and the moment she sees the first sender address in the header, she groans. I can't help raising my eyebrows. "What is it?"

"See that extension?" She points to an address reading .org. "Zaire Aid is one of the company aliases the Agency uses for their operations in Africa." Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure. What? "Don't look at me like that. Tom once told me a bit about how the CIA operates. One of the very few things he ever told me about the Black Year. Apparently, the CIA wasn't exactly his unit's favorite partner to work with."

"Can't imagine why," I can't help muttering and it gets me a knowing look from Laura.

Alright, so Dee received messages from his ex-lover… and probably from his ex-employer, too. I frown. "Are you thinking the same thing I'm thinking, Laura?"

"Oh yes, but how do we get five packets of cookies and thirty tutus, Brain?" What? "Sorry, bad habit back from my cartoon watching days. Never mind." Okay… I… won't. "Anyway, yeah, if you're thinking the messages from his ex-employer are connected to the messages of his ex… girlfriend… love affair… whatever, then yes, we're thinking the same thing." Don't thing I didn't notice your little bout of jealousy, Laura. And _don't_ think I'll let it lie.

For now, however, we've got work to do. "Alright, let's see… The Agency's e-mails start a day before Noruega sent her first message. And this first e-mail… mh…" I cock my head to the side a little and start deciphering the two phrases the message consists of. Okay… okay, yeah, that was pretty easy, actually. "Looks like they knew she'd contact Dee and ordered him to agree to whatever she'll propose. Weird. They didn't even advise him to play coy about the plan or something. They left it all to him." And the second one… ouch. "And they remind him of… okay, that doesn't sound good."

"Mh, no, it doesn't," Laura agrees and frowns at the message. Apparently, they have something in their records that's not exactly fortunate for Dee and once again I wonder how dirty his hands actually are… and how well we all know him. I hate myself for that. "Far as I see it, they know something about him he'd rather not have anyone else know and used it to put him on Noruega's trail. Leaves the question why they'd do that."

I shrug. "Treason? She knows stuff they don't want anyone else to know?" I sigh. "This isn't a skeleton in a closet, Laura. It's a goddamn crypt _full_ of skeletons."

She nods. "I'm starting to wonder if this is going way above our heads."

"What's going way above our heads, Laura?" _God_. Did he really _have_ to do that? "What, did I startle you, girls?"

Did he just call us _girls_? How _could_ he… "Go back to bed, Tom. We're not finished here yet." That's right, Laura. Give him his due!

"Yeah, but _I_ am finished with sleeping for today." I can see that she's about to tell him that this is not in _his_ competency to decide that or something like that but he just knows her too well. "Sleep is for losers, Laura. Can we please get to do some _work_ now, ladies?" Oh now we're _ladies_. I'm not sure if that's a step upwards or downwards from "girls".

"Sleep is not…" _Whoa_. Moore Look of Death. That should be the clue for stopping to antagonize him, even for Laura. "Alright, but don't go complaining to me about any symptoms related to lack of sleep."

He seems to actually ponder that for a moment – a sure sign that he is already exhibiting symptoms of lack of sleep – then simply says, "Fair enough." Huh. Whatever… "Now, what _did_ you find, Kid?" What? Oh, wait, that's me. He was talking to me now. Alright.

_Moore_

Okay. Maybe I should have tried to fall asleep just for a little while longer. It is kind of difficult following Laura and Reece in their account of what they found in the messages Noruega sent Dee and those from other senders that I didn't get to have a look into anymore. Lots of information for a sleep deprived brain, and I just hope something in my subconscious catches all that and plays it back to me when I need it. I _really_ should have tried that falling asleep thing for longer than just an hour.

But the thing is, it was nearly impossible to even close my eyes. Because every time I _did_ , I kept seeing Reece. And not just any image of her, no, it had to be her, wearing my goddamn Falcons shirt and… and _nothing_ else. Good God, you don't want to know what I saw her _doing_ … doing to _me_ , by the way, and _with_ me, too. _And all because she had to leave her scent all over my goddamn sheets._

She left it there and now I'll never get it out of my head again. I'll always think of her when I smell apples and a bit of cinnamon, I just _know_ that. Every time I smell that, she'll be there, with her curls and her rare smile – rare for _me_ , anyway – and her green eyes. _Fuck_.

"Tom? Are you even listening?" Oh just great.

"Yeah, sure. You just said that the other messages I didn't get to have a look at yet were sent by Dee's ex-employers." Phew. Good thing that I can multitask sufficiently to wreck my head about Reece in my bed and catch the most important bits of the conversation going on. You have no idea how often that saved my lazy ass at the Academy.

However, it doesn't save me from skeptic looks, both from Laura and Reece and could they just stop doing it? Most of all… _most_ of all Reece. It's all _her_ goddamn fault that I have to divide my attention, after all. And we'll conveniently forget that I was the one inviting her in there in a fit of ill-placed chivalry. "What? Surprised I'm smart enough to keep up with you two geniuses?"

Laura rolls her eyes. "Shove it, Tom. And keep listening."

As my only reply, I roll my eyes, too and then at least _try_ to keep listening to what they relay to me further. Basically, they say that the CIA spooks contacted Dee before Noruega did or at least the first mails that are still in Dee's inbox are dated further back than the first mails sent from Noruega. Well. I might even agree with them to the fact that whatever Noruega wants of Dee, his ex-employers knew she'd ask for his help. Which probably means she stole something from them… or they _gave_ her something.

Reece also illustrates how much of the code Noruega uses she could break and that she thinks Dee and Noruega set off for burying deeper into the Rockies to get away from civilization because Noruega needs a hiding place and someone to help her organize whatever she needs to organize. And that's as far as she got… but I'm almost inclined to believe her when she says that it's pretty much possible that whatever Noruega is planning isn't even in the messages. And okay, she thinks she might have found a starting point for their little adventure but she needs to compare notes with me and Laura to confirm it. Alright, we can certainly do that.

When Laura and Reece have finished their little account, there's a moment of silence in which I try to sort out what they found out and file it away for later because there's one other much more pressing question. I run a hand through my hair, then look at Reece, trying to be all professional about it and ignoring that she still has her out of bed looks surrounding her and is still wearing my Academy shirt. "So, Kid, how about your _other_ job?"

She blinks and isn't that kind of adorab… no, it's not. "Sir?"

Oh come on, don't tell me you don't know _exactly_ what I mean. I'm trying a patented "don't pretend I'm stupid" look. "Well, how are you gonna keep the SGC fun sticks off our backs?"

"Well, sir..." she says… and that's it. What? Don't just sit there and look like you're afraid of telling me what you think. Not after you did that so clearly that I have a visual reminder in my face.

I glare at her. "Kid."

She seems to straighten herself up. "I thought... General Landry could help us."

 _Excuse_ me? "What the... _how_?"

"Oh, I thought he could order us on a mission to rescue Sergeant DeLisle." Oh what, _now_ you're being laconic? And quite honestly, now at least I understand why you were so reluctant to bring your idea into the open. Because it's _crap_.

"Are you insane?" She _has_ to be, with ideas like that. "Seriously, who fucked up your head like that, Lieutenant? What the hell's going on in your..."

"Tom." _What_ , Laura? What do you want from me, huh?

"I mean it, Laura. That brain washing must have left behind some serious brain _damage_." Because there's no other way how to explain this sudden descent into insanity of my usually very smart and very sensible little Lieutenant. "How could you even..."

"Tom! _Stop_ it." No, I _won't_? "I want to hear it. And you're gonna keep your fucking trap shut until Maureen is finished. Am I clear?"

How _dare_ she? "You..."

"Am I _clear_?" Oh, damn, it's her "don't fuck with me, Thomas Moore, or I'll disembowel you" face.

I swallow. "Yes."

One day, I will _not_ comply with you, Laura. One day, I _will_ act like a CO when you're being insolent like that. But not today, granted. "Good. Go on, Maureen."

Looking a little… uncomfortable, probably at having had to visit this exchange, Reece nods and hopefully starts explaining that harebrained scheme she mentioned before. "Um, yeah. Uh... I was thinking of slipping the order into the stack of documents he needs to sign every morning. They're mostly provisions and basically all the stuff he delegates to his staff and the team leaders and he never actually looks at them."

Oh yeah, right. I frown. "How do you know?"

"Goddammit, Tom!" Could you just _stop_ it, _Captain_?

I'm about telling here where exactly she can put her act but… Reece is faster. "No, it's okay, Laura. It's a good question." Wait… it is? Reece just called an question that _I_ asked her a _good_ question? Did I miss something here? "I know the aide who's responsible for showing General Landry the documents. And she owes me."

Oh right, of course. Uh-huh. No. " _How_?"

I half expect Laura to get at my throat again but again, it's Reece who speaks up first. "I don't think you want to know that."

Oh really? _Oh really_? "Oh, I think I _do_."

What… holy shit. I didn't know she could look like _that_. And most of all I didn't _think_ she'd actually do that, most of all not in _my_ direction. I'm pretty sure we created a monster somewhere along the way since we agreed to take her on and further her training. "With all due respect, sir, how and why Corporal Rawls owes me is of no consequence for this mission. Can I go on now?"

Um. Err. Well. "Yeah, sure."

And please, stop looking so damn smug and "oh, my baby's all grown up", Laura. Let's just keep listening to Reece, shall we? "So... I'm gonna write it and Maggie will slip it into the pile. He's gonna sign it, in triplicate, just like regulations demand. She'll pick out all copies and hand them over to me so we don't leave a paper trail but have something legitimate to show for it, should the situation demand it."

Eh.

Wow.

That.

Wow.

Errr. Where was I? Oh, right. Being in awe over what Reece just proposed. Because good Heavens, this could actually _work_. I'm… amazed. And even speechless for a moment. Then the only thing I can think of is, "Where the hell did you _learn_ all of that?"

She… oh. I think she just _blushed_. That's probably the cutest thing I ever saw, with her still looking kind of like fresh out of bed and so damn young and… I will just stop that train of thought and never pick it up again. "Sergeant DeLisle might have taught me a couple of things."

Well, yes, okay. That… actually makes sense. That he'd teach her more than just blow shit up in style, that is. But to my surprise it's Laura who murmurs, "And here I always thought he only did wet work."

Did she just really say that? I can't help looking at her and clarifying something, "I hate it when people call it that."

She defies my look with one of her own rather special ones and retorts, "I hate it that he might actually have been forced to do it," with enough… feeling in it that it makes me pause for a moment. And here I thought after our little sleep over a while ago I might just be seeing ghosts, after all.

However, since this is neither the right place nor the right time for it, I decide not to go at it directly. Instead, I try to be a little more… sophisticated. "You gonna tell him?"

Mh. Probably not sophisticated enough. Because she raises her eyebrow and gives back, "Are _you_?"

Is that an actual _question_ , Captain Greenspan? Seriously? Is it? I frown at her. "No." And then my gaze falls on Reece and I add, "Kid?"

She shakes her head, even with what you might call verve. "Hell no, sir. If you'll pardon my French, sir." Aw, that is just too… no, wait. I'm not going to use the word "cute" in connection with her. Not _again_. I'm just not.

And anyway, I think we're done here for so I tell the girls to get their stuff together and head home for a shower and a change of clothing and meeting me again in about an hour in one of the cafés downtown. We still need a decent breakfast and quite honestly right now? I'm just not in the mood for cooking. Yes, this is how far this got me. _I_ am _not_ in the mood for _cooking_. It's really time we do something about this.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

_DeLisle_

Actually, it's not a bad plan. Even if what she did was a _very bad idea_ , one so stupid and harebrained and _dangerous_ it exceeds everything the Major ever did in his heyday at the Academy. Please don't ask how I know about this, I just do.

 _Actually_ , it's even more stupid and harebrained and dangerous than the couple of stunts he pulled when we first started working together when they paired me with him for his Special Ops training and in the beginning of what Laura likes to call the Black Year. And that's a very rare and special feat to achieve.

Catalina Noruega, though… Catalina Noruega thought she could outsmart everyone from the NID to the SGC's counterintelligence division _and_ the _CIA'_ s counterintelligence division _and_ the DOD's counterintelligence division. Actually, she thought she could outsmart every government institution's counterintelligence division that has any stakes in the Stargate program, the nation's state secrets and basically everything that can get you killed and then purged from every record you ever appeared on. What the _hell_ did she do that for?

She said, of course, that it was "just for fun" but I know her well enough there's more to it. I didn't ask because I wouldn't have gotten any straight answer at all, anyway. Instead I just listened, filed everything away, made her believe I have my own reasons that I agreed to help her with this… reasons that she has no business knowing. Amazing as it is, she seems to respect that, even now. She always did but I honestly would have thought the fact that she probably thinks I'm _not_ here "just for fun" and probably not even on my own would make her give up that principle, too.

True to her word, she hadn't actually _told_ me who exactly she pissed off but from what she told me about what she did, I could guess that pretty much. Basically, what she did was act on orders of various secret agencies and collect a few secrets of each for her own. The most valuable ones, of course. And what she wants to do _now_ is sell them, with the goal of being the only real winner in this game. Talk about being delusional.

However, being Noruega, at least she had a _plan_ , and not a half bad one at that, as I mentioned. After breakfast, we hiked further up and found a cave where we set up camp for the day, probably even longer. Currently, she's setting up her communications gear. It's long range, state of the art on the encryption side and sure as hell stolen from the SGC or Area 51. There's no mistaking the alien shape and the incredibly small size of the thing for anything government issue or commercially bought. At least not bought on _Earth_.

She's crouching in front of it, a small laptop connected to it, typing away on the keyboard and I'm pretty sure the Major would literally kill to get his hands on something like that, whoever stood in his way. She made it pretty much obvious that I was _not_ to come closer than five feet during her doing that stuff and I kept to that. It wouldn't do to compromise the work I put into getting a message out to both by team and my ex-employer.

It was a risky move, I admit that, not really like my usual tactics. But I needed to _act_ and I need to do it _now_. I need to keep my ex-bosses off my back and I need to tell my team that in fact I did _not_ go AWOL. Not… _exactly_ , anyway. I miss them and I don't want to lose them. Not like this. Not ever, actually.

So I did the best thing I could come up with. I used a bit of the magic I picked up from the Major over the years and fed a little redundancy into Noruega's laptop when she was outside for a couple of minutes to heed nature's call. I sure as hell hope it was able to sneak past her fortifications and didn't trigger any alarms.

Because if it managed that… it'll attach two coded messages to the data burst she just sent out to a dozen potential buyers. One's for Langley – or wherever my ex-bosses are currently holing up – the other one's for The Springs and I hope to God at least one of them has the brains to check their e-mail account in the next two hours. After that, both messages will delete themselves.

Where I learned _that_? Here and there and I might even have received a little script for something like that from the Major once upon a time. But it's not really important anyway and… "So… guess when this is over, I'll do the Harry Maybourne. Want to join me?"

What? Oh, right. She's done and smirking at me. I try to keep it light." Depends."

She raises her eyebrow. "On _what_?"

Nonchalant shrugging now. "On the planet you picked out. I'm not going to settle down on a planet that looks like British Columbia."

It makes her snort and despite the fact that I don't have feeling for her anymore, it doesn't fail to make me smile. Genuinely, actually. "Got a problem with Canada, Sergeant?"

I roll my eyes. "No. Just with repetitiveness." Because seriously? Every second planet we step on through the gate looks _exactly_ like British Columbia. That's probably the most stupid joke the universe _ever_ allowed itself.

"Shouldn't have joined the military then," she says and there's the easy grin she seemed to have lost over the years after we parted ways… maybe even before that. I can't help feeling kind of sorry for her again and I'm pretty sure she'd hate me for that.

"Really? Thanks for telling me that before my twenty were up, Sergeant." I try to sound sufficiently miffed but she just keeps grinning and I really wish I were here under different circumstances. I think I would have liked to keep her as a friend, if nothing else.

Yeah.

Right.

As if we ever were that.

Better concentrate on the job. "Tali?" She raises her eyebrows. "What do we do now?"

"Now," she replies and comes walking over after stowing her gear away and plops herself down next to me, "now we wait until the offers come flowing in. How about lunch to pass the time?"

Lunch. Yeah. I nod and silently unpack an MRE I stole from the commissary storage. It can only get better from here, right?

_Reece_

I have to be honest. I was kind of hoping that we might get to have those pancakes the Major promised us after all but then the café he we finally settled for doesn't serve pancakes. At _all_. What kind of café is _that_ , huh? How is a girl supposed to watch her two superiors bicker for hours on end without the strengthening substance that pancakes usually pro…

"Lieutenant Reece? Are you still with us?" Damn. Zoning out while mentally mourning for today's pancakes while your two superiors hash out a mission plan is _not a good thing_.

I resist the urge to clear my throat. "Yes, sir."

The Major doesn't look very convinced. Not that I expected differently. Some things really do never change. "Did you really just lie to me, Lieutenant?" _Excuse_ me, sir? "She lied to me, didn't she, Laura?" No, I did _not_? "I'm pretty sure she wasn't with us. I'm pretty sure she was with Lieutenant Whatshisname."

What the _hell_? And could you _please_ stop grinning, Laura? "With all due respect, it's none of your business with whom I spend my off time. Sir." It really isn't. Not even when the officer in question is on an off-world team we occasionally work together with because it's commanded by Major Lorne. Don't you _dare_ giving me the anti-frat reg speech, Major I Dated Lieutenant Whatshername For At Least Four Months Before She Told Me Laura Didn't Approve Of Any Of The Nurses Going Out With Me. "Besides, I stopped going out with Lieutenant Forsberg two months ago." Oops. He wasn't really supposed to know that. Because it really _isn't_ his business, damn it. That's why I asked Laura not to tell him any of the particulars.

And anyway, why is he being an ass about it _now_? He wasn't when I was actually going out with… oh, okay, he was. Come to think of it…

"So I was _right_. I _knew_ it. You really had something with that…" I never actually get to hear what the Major planned on calling Peter – which is probably a good thing for _him_ – because suddenly there's the sound of a C130 taking off and with a slightly irritated face the Major pulls out his newest tech toy, a brand new BlackBerry. Told him being able to get e-mails to wherever you are is a _bad_ thing. Or would have, if I'd had the guts.

Anyway… "Tom?" Laura asks but the Major doesn't answer, just stares at the screen of his phone with a mixture of irritation and confusion. After another moment of silence, Laura leans over with a roll of her eyes and a sound of irritation and snatch the stupid phone from the Major's hand.

It's amazing that he doesn't immediately do what he'd usually do whenever someone _dared_ to make him forcibly part with one of his toys. I don't want to go into details now but believe me, it's _not_ a pretty sight to see. And he's really _very_ possessive and _protective_ of his tech stuff. So what… Laura? Guys? "Uh… excuse me but… what… is going on right now?"

After sharing a short look with the Major, Laura wordlessly hands the phone over to me and frowning, I take it to have a look at the screen myself. Alright… an e-mail… seriously? Is this even happening? I blink and try to read it again.

_Hey dad, hey mom, how are you? I'm good. Went on a little trip with a friend to where we used to go a couple years back. We found a nice spot for a little camp out. Not sure how long we'll stay but there's a spectacular view here. Kinda like on one of dad's pictures from this business trip he won't stop talking about. Gotta go now. Give sis my regards. Take care, guys._

So… it was sent to the a private account – probably the Major's and seriously, sir? goodwithknives at yahoo dot com? – from another private account with a an address consisting of a heap of letters and numbers and an ISP I never even heard of before. I guess that means it was scrambled because even _I_ picked up _something_ from what the Major tried to teach us. And _that_ means… I look up again, frowning. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

Just for once, there's no smartass comment from either Laura or the Major, just both nodding. Then the Major says, "Much as I'd like to continue this pleasant little Sunday outing, I'm afraid it's time we get back to work." Pleasant little Sunday outing? He just shouldn't try to be eloquent. It always ends badly.

I throw Laura a look and she just rolls her eyes in response – of course she would. She agrees on the whole eloquence thing – but also says, "Much as I hate to say it, you're right. Maureen?" I nod. Guess it's time I get to preparing those forms I need Maggie to show to General Landry.

The Major doesn't look very enthusiastic about breaking up our little breakfast but he says anyway, "Alright, ladies… let's finish this up and then go make us useful. Tab's on me, by the way." Right. That's… nice of him, actually. And if I'm honest, I'm not much more enthusiastic about breaking this up. If this hadn't been about Dee and trying to hone a plan to get him back without trying to tip off any listeners, this could have actually been a really nice team breakfast thing. A pleasant Sunday outing, to borrow the Major's words.

Well. It's not as if this is the last opportunity we'll have for something like that. At least not if I have anything to say about it. And I'm going to do everything I can to get this whole disappearance over with, so we can do all the pleasant team stuff again as soon as possible. You bet I will.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

_Greenspan_

Monday morning. Probably the only day of the week I do hate getting up early. Which is why I just can't keep from yawning my way through dreary inventory of medical supplies. Okay, that and the fact that this is about the tenth inventory this month. On the fifth day of the month. Gah! Days like this, you almost _wish_ for some alien people or other invading the SGC or something random blowing up or… "Laura, my office." Or your superior and best friend radioing you to start your not so legal operation to get your NCO back.

I can't help rolling my eyes a little, just because I always do that when Tom's in command mode and even manage to make up a convincing excuse to leave the infirmary without being brought to justice for abandoning my post by one Major Lisette Andresen. On my way to Tom's office I realize that it's never harder to appear inconspicuous when you actually have to. I'm pretty sure there will be a couple people wondering what's gotten into me at chow today.

When I finally arrive at Tom's office, the first thing I see is that Maureen arrived before I did and doesn't look half as spooked as she usually does when she has to bear with Tom alone for longer than two minutes. Oh well, maybe she arrived one and a half minutes before me or something. Or maybe she didn't, judging from the way she tries to avoid my eyes. What's going on here, people?

"How nice of you to join us after all, Captain Greenspan." Oh, right. Five minutes, Tom. Just five minutes from the infirmary to here and you dare to be smug?

"I'm pretty sure I'll have something to say about that when you're trying to escape from Major Andresen's clutches next time." For a moment, just a moment, I could see the telltale expression that all male soldiers seem to wear the moment you mention Major Andresen on his face. It's a bewildering look of utter shock and… fear? Oy.

For some reason or other Maureen seems to have decided that this is a good moment to speak up without being prompted to by Tom, "Err, Maggie… Corporal Rawls just gave me the heads up. We're good to go."

Miraculously… no immediate set down happens for having spoken up without being asked to. Either someone brainwashed Tom or… or I don't know. I'd say he's starting to take her seriously for managing that stunt with the orders but… "Alright. You both have privately owned side-arms at home, right?" Well… yes. "Okay, I want you to get them ASAP."

So… he was serious. He really wants to solve this. Good thing then, because I am, too. And… "Sir, what about the armory?" I can't believe she did it again. "The orders stated that…"

"What do we want to avoid leaving behind, Lieutenant?" Theeere you go. And here I thought I'd happened about the end of the world as I knew it. Didn't expect him to react in any other way than being a condescending asshole.

"A… paper trail, sir." Why, I wonder, does she keep playing along? It's not that she isn't smart enough to find something intelligent to throw back at him and she's shown that she's got an uncanny streak of stubbornness and, if she really has to, boldness, too. So why does she keep letting him roll all over her?

And that came out totally wrong.

"Exactly. Now go and get those guns." Oh, oh, alright, don't get all anxious, Mister. "Don't forget some decent survival stuff." Would we ever, huh? "Laura, I want you to bring any medical supplies you can get." Of course you do. "Reece, your priority's food. I'll see you at my house in 60. Move it."

After that, the only thing left to do is as he says. Much as it pains me to say, he's right about making this urgent and shooing us off so I just grab Maureen and we make it back to the surface as fast as the elevator can go. I'm wondering, though, what he's going to do back down there. Well.

As I ride back to our apartment with Maureen and ignore the hand that's holding on to the door grip tightly enough that her knuckles became white, I just can't help myself and it slips out, "Maureen… why do you keep letting Tom order you around…"

"Don't, Laura." Huh. What's _that_ about?

"I'm just saying that you've become a really valuable member of the team and honestly, he deserves a set down now and then…"

"I said, _don't_ , Laura." Alright, fine, whatever.

I can't help sighing as I manage to park the car in under two minutes. We make our way up to our place and I'm honestly amazed at how methodically Maureen starts packing up food, basic survival kit, clips and spare mags for her personal Beretta and clothes for three days in her backpack. I know I shouldn't be astonished but it's awesome to see how much she learned since I met her for the first time.

When I get to holster my Beretta at my hip, she's already standing at door, looking a tad impatient. I probably would have hollered at myself to hurry the fuck up.

But at least in the end we make it to Tom's in 48. A new record, that.

He's been expecting us and I can see that he's been waiting _impatiently_ the moment he opens the door. I didn't even have to ring. He's all geared up, backpack, holstered Beretta… and a fucking G36 in his hand. What the everloving _fuck_? And he's got no business giving me a "What?" look and a shrug. I just have to say it, even though I know it's futile. "I don't want to know why you have a privately owned G36 at your disposal, do I?" He just raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, thought so."

"Okay," he says after throwing Maureen a look and since he doesn't find fault with her this time, he just continues, "let's go."

_Moore_

I've gotta admit, I never thought Laura and Reece would make it here in under 60 minutes but apparently, those girls have even more in them than I suspected. It's not a really comforting thing to know. Anyway, they both look good to go and I'd attribute this solely to my outstanding training if I didn't know that Laura would give me a couple slaps to the back of my head if she knew I were thinking that.

Anyway, I pick up the keys to the rental – a rundown '89 Ford Taurus – I procured on the way to my house from the shabbiest car rental company I ever encountered and make my way over to the black, rusty atrocity. It looks very much like Laura is starting to get revved up about wanting to actually _drive_ that monster but I'm not going to risk my life before we even got to the AO.

Which is, apparently, in the mountains. From the post-its Laura could puzzle out a special kind of soil that can only be found in a special part of the mountains and Dee's e-mail told a few either things, for example how high up he'd been when he'd sent it. Looks like we're going to pay the area around King's Peak a visit. "Okay, guys, buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride."

Was that a snort from Reece?

Pretty sure there was one right behind me, from _her_ direction. For a moment, I consider ignoring it but it's about time I start to become a terror again. "Something to say, Lieutenant?" I sure hope saying something like that without turning around still has the same shit he's got eyes in the back of his head effect than it used to have.

"Err… no, sir. Nothing… at all." I knew I still had it in me.

And if I can convince myself to ignore the amused undertone, maybe I can convince myself that I'm still my old badass self where she is concerned as well. The look I'm getting from Laura as she buckles herself in on the passenger seat isn't helping much, either. Aw, shit.

Anyway, we're off to see the Wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz and once I finally got the engine running, I lean back, trying to look relaxed and set up an elaborate course to throw off any possible pursuers put on this by possibly ten government agencies and/or military security agencies at once. First step taken. It can only get better from here.


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

**Eleven**

_DeLisle_

Usually, I'm not given to fatalism but right now, it looks as if it can't get much worse.

Two hours ago, we traded our cozy cave for a hole in the ground even further up because Noruega said she'd picked up a warning from one of her potential buyers that we were being surrounded and the net is getting tighter with every minute. We'd broken up camp immediately, staying only as long as it took us to cover our tracks – except the construction of sticks and small rocks that the Major should be able to read that I left – and getting the hell out of Dodge.

As it is, Noruega'd been right because the helicopter still circling the air above our heads might _look_ like it was State Forest Service but we both know that it's probably a state of the art piece of surveillance air craft, with infrared cameras, sonar, night sight cameras, the whole nine yards.

We've been fucking sitting ducks for almost two hours now, lying in our foxhole, covered with a reflection blanket and a heap of dead wood, leaves, soil, everything we could find. The worst thing about being stuck here and having a helo circling above our heads is that the rotor blade's _thwap thwap_ sound makes it nearly impossible to detect dog handlers and foot patrols early enough to have at least a microscopically small chance to get out of this alive.

Okay, so maybe _I_ would, seeing as that helo and those people on foot are most likely my former employers and current guys holding my leash but then again… I never held many illusions about the CIA and I hold even less now.

So I draw on any SERE lesson I ever had – or _gave_ – and make myself lie completely still, slow down my breathing rate, concentrate on the senses not obstructed by either visual or noise blockade and keep wondering why the hell my team is taking so much time. Noruega is lying next to me and in the half dark beneath our cover, I can see her grin, saying very loud even without words "Just like old times, ain't it?" and I can't help it. The sudden urge to strangle her nearly makes me lose my calm and just _do_ it.

Since I know that she'd probably have dismembered and killed me in less than two seconds, though, I keep my hands to myself and forced myself to concentrate on keeping still again. I also get back into the "I hate her, I hate the former employers, I hate the SGC, I hate the Trust, I hate the fucking _universe_ " litany I'd started just as soon as we'd skidded into the foxhole and started digging in and covering ourselves up. At least it keeps my breathing even.

That doesn't do anything against the footsteps now being close enough that I can actually hear them really clear above the _thwap thwap_. In fact… "Godammit." What… "We're _here_ , you fuckers. Will you stop _searching_?"

What in God's and all the fucking saints' holy _name_ is she _doing_? Did she just jump up and _give our position away_?

Shit.

Shitshitshit.

I can't believe what's happening here. My eyes see that she gave up our cover, my ears hear that she yelled at the dog handlers to come over here but my brain is wholly unable to compute what the fuck just happened.

Until she says, "I got him, just as you wanted. Now come and take him off my hands."

Because there's no mistaking _there_ that she just betrayed me to the people that she was so afraid of that she told me to shoot her should she ever fall into their hands. For a moment, a tiny little moment I'm tempted to actually do her the favor and shoot her in the back but then I remember that my days of shooting people in the back were over long ago. In fact, they were over as soon as I left the CIA.

Just like our little hiking trip, apparently. Because really, nothing says "the party is over" like a six foot three guy towering over you and his enormous Alsatian reeking of wet dog breathing down your neck. Okay, that and that said six foot three guy yanks you up and nearly pulls your arm out of its socket. Seriously, I'm getting too old for this shit.

But since there's nothing I can do right now, I opt to conserve energy and led doggie guy drag me over to the helo that apparently found a place just wide and flat enough to land a few yards away from us. When we reach it, another guy – short, wiry, probably harder to knock down than doggie guy – clips hand cuffs around my wrists in front of my body and pushes me into the helo that takes off immediately, after all of us have climbed in.

Well. I guess now's a good time for the last resort. Furtively, I reach into my right sleeve and press against the chip glued to my wrist. Which just shows _how_ desperate I am all of a sudden.

_Reece_

This kind of reminds me that after that brainwashing mission that shall never be named again Laura and I made a resolution to turn me into a real the Springs local. Part of that was hiking the surrounding mountains on our spare days; no boys, no mobile phones, just as. We'd planned to take starting with Fox Run and then working our way up to the big ones. I've been in the Springs for almost a year now. And all we've managed until now is teaching me how to put a "the" before Springs when shortening the city's name.

So, hey, great that I get to see a bit of scenery now, huh? A bit of hiking, shooting the breeze… and carrying semi-automatic side arms and an assault rifle along. Not like that's so unusual the parts around here, but I think it's _not_ usual to snoop through the underbrush trying to find two AWOL soldiers that at some point have both been CIA.

What's _also_ not usual is the pace the Major set. He's always been a brisk walker but I guess something in his subconscious – or Laura – usually tells him that not everyone has his two sticks of really long legs and he measures his pace. Today, though, nothing but sprinting and jogging is good enough for him. Good for me that I've been steadily upping my mileage on the tread mill and with Laura.

I'm still ridiculously relieved every time he pauses for reading another hint Dee left behind.

Or, for the peasants like me how he stares into the shrubbery, kneels down and counts some tree needles before he gets up and says, "This way." I'm fairly certain that half the time he's making things up or at least pretends that three needles _definitely_ there and a pine cone here make another hint. Then again, he and Dee have been on the same team for ages. Maybe they learned how to read the other's thoughts at some point. Wouldn't surprise me, after almost a year at the SGC.

I am, however, still not beyond honest surprise when we reach hut at some miles up that has a short red rope with an interesting pattern of knots tied into it hanging from a twig from the shrub next to it that not even _I_ could miss. Judging from what Dee once taught me about leaving a trail worthy of Hansel and Gretel, he wanted to tell us that where he and Noruega went next. Wonder what made him go so obvious… "Huh."

"Lieutenant." Damn, did I say that out loud? I hate it when that happened.

Trying not to look to cowering – and sound too much out of breath, mind you – I turn to the Major. "Helicopter blades, sir. Am I the only one hearing them?"

I sure as hell can't be because they're steadily becoming louder, definitely coming into our direction. But Laura and the Major just look at me with incomprehension. "Are you sure, Maureen? Because I don't.."

"Sht. I hear them, too." There's a weird look from Laura telling me that she's finding something too weird for words and frankly, I don't think I want to know what _that_ is. "Shit. They're coming closer. Into the hut." What? Why is he… " _Move_ it, you two."

Oh, okay, alright. We shuffle into the hut as fast as we can and now I can see that Laura definitely must have heard the helo, too. The Major gestures for us to stay down below the height of the windows and sneaks close to one of them, looking down the mountain. The _thwap thwap_ is still coming closer, now nearly above us… and then becoming lower again. Huh… oh, right, they're drifting away from us.

Laura looks at me, probably to inquire if I can see whether there are any markings on the helo's side but… "State Forest Service, my fucking _ass_. If that isn't an active duty combat pilot flying that chopper, I'll eat my fucking rifle." Right, so the Major _saw_ markings. And I'm sure he was exaggerating. No one could know _that_ kind of thing. Not even him. Right?

Right. But then again… he _is_ the Major, isn't he?

"Alright, I guess that means we'll have to stay under the radar now. I'd say that…" Huh? What was that beeping sound? Oh. Oh Jesus, I can't believe the Major actually brought his stupid BlackBerry. As if he had _any_ reception… "Text from Dee."

Seriously?

"Err, Tom, could you _please_ be a _little_ more specific?" That, too.

"Err, Laura, could you _please_ give me a minute to actually _read_ this?" Really? A bickering fest right here during a rescue mission? Are you fucking kidding me?

Thank God Laura at least leaves it at making a face at him and getting back to guarding the hut's entrance while the Major frowns at his phone's screen and then mutters something like, "Well, fuck _me_."

That was… very conclusive and the look Laura throws tells me she just had the same thought. I'm pretty sure he saw that exchange and it wouldn't have surprised me in the slightest if he'd just gone into sulking mood but apparently, team leader mode – even after everything still my favorite mode, did I ever say that before? – is still strong enough to override it. "It's not a text. It's a transmitter signal. For some reason he managed to ping me when that helo flew by and now that thing is sending regular updates with coordinates." He looks up from his screen, looking… _bewildered_? I don't think I ever saw him look like that and it's kind of disconcerting how cute… "This is slightly scary, actually."

Well. I'm really not sure if a _snort_ is the right answer to this, Laura. The Major seems to think so, too because he throws her one of his practiced dark looks. Someone seriously needs to tell him that most of the time, they look ridiculous. But then again, the times they look really, really scary and not really like _him_ are those you really don't want be around him. Or anywhere in his vicinity for a radius of about ten miles. Anyway… "It's not like we didn't know he had some hidden depths, you know."

Well, yes, but couldn't we please… "I just can't believe he managed to tap into my phone with that transmitter. Sneaky bastard."

Aaan here we go again. "Honestly, Tom, that was just so…"

"I think it was a compliment, Laura." Oops. It wasn't supposed to actually come out loud but I guess that right now I'm just so fucking fed up with the Major being all amazed at something he should well have known by now, seeing as he's known Dee for Heaven knows how long and Laura getting all protective of Dee in front the Major that I don't care about keeping my trap shut anymore.

Which is why I'm pretty much rendered speechless when the Major only replies quietly, "Correct, Lieutenant."

There's a moment of silence and then Laura expresses _exactly_ how I feel right now, "Wow. You two agreeing with each other _twice_ in one conversation. _Now_ I'm scared."

Really, exactly what I just thought, right down to "Now I'm scared," because honestly, me agreeing with the Major… I'm not sure if this has happened more than three or so times altogether in my time with SG10 up to now. I really don't know what to make of it and… "Alright, if you're both over your bewilderment about something as insignificant as _that_ , I'd like to _get the fuck out of here_ again." Yeah, well… "I think I know where the helo's headed and we need to get back to the car and drive as close as we can to there ASAP." Mhm, yes… "Godammit, girls, _move_ it."

Not sure how often he's going to say this in the course of this mission at any _unwarranted_ point he can find but I'll be nice to him just this once and chalk it up to actually liking Dee and probably freaking out over what might be going to happen to him because he probably knows full well what people like those who just kidnapped our resident NCO are capable of.

I just hope he didn't hear Laura just mutter, "To the Bat Mobile, then!" as we start running down the mountain back to the piece of junk the Major just called a car. Sadly, I don't think he'd find it as hilarious as she probably does right now.


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

_Greenspan_

And they're are telling me that _my_ driving sucks.

Seriously, this has been the single worst drive in my entire life. Ten minutes of absolute, terrible hell. I didn't even know if Tom's thousand yard stare over the steering wheel or the creaking and screeching sounds originating from somewhere inside the car or Maureen's face white as sheet – and Maureen looking ready to puke all over the backseat at any moment – were the worst things of all. And _then_ he gets out of the car, all steady, not a twitch, not a shake, saying, "Don't even think of griping. It _did_ the job." The _nerve_ that man has.

There's a look from Maureen as she gets out of the pile of junk I thought about affectionately dubbing "the Bad Mobile" – yes, I _know_ that it's really, really lame – and I'm wondering if she'll disembowel me now if I help her or at least wait until the mission is finished. To both her and my relief she makes it out of the car on her own, after all. I'm pretty sure she'd have died of shame if she'd managed to face plant into the dirt in front of Tom. A proud one, that one is.

Anyway… "Okay, getting the ping again… yep, just as I thought."

"Err, Tom, what exactly are you _talking_ about?" Because really, speaking in riddles will never be cool.

I can see him ready to heave a sigh, possibly a _dramatic_ one but to his credit, he can stop himself in time, apparently. "Got a ping from Dee's transmitter again that just confirmed what I'd been thinking when I saw the direction the helo took. And I don't like it in the least."

Still not making any sense, Tom. "How about you… _elaborate_ on that just a _bit_ more?"

Did I just see Maureen roll her eyes? Nah, so totally not, I didn't. She'd never do that. Nuh-uh.

Then again, she's become kind of… _cheeky_ in the last couple months. Maybe she _did_ roll her eyes. _Anyway_ … "I _would_ , if you wouldn't keep interrupting me." I really can't… "Up there's a safehouse a couple of our CIA contacts liked to use for holing themselves up in and hide from their superiors if a mission _really_ went down the drain. Either we've got a whole bunch of rogue agents or the famed CIA security is nothing but myth. Either way…"

"We're screwed, sir?"

"Exactly, Kid." I can see she didn't like the sound of it and I don't, either. But then again… it can't get much worse now, huh? "Okay, I think I know a short cut from here. Let's if we get to them before they try anything stupid on my NCO."

 _Our_ NCO, Mister, and don't you forget it. And I'm pretty sure that the only thing he didn't even tell us to "move it" again this time was so that he could get running right off the spot and forestall any corrections to that ludicrous "my NCO" thing.

And damn, he's fucking succeeding. I hate it when he shows off his superior Special Operations physique that kicks everyone else of us right in our run of the mill Airman's ass. One day, I _will_ get back at him for that. Now, though, I'll concentrate on running up that stupid mountain to get our damn NCO back…

_Moore_

Ah, _shit_. Nearly overshot the position I just spotted and ended up right in front of the safehouse. No idea where that came from but at least we got here just in time for us to see them push an obviously blindfolded Dee down from their side and towards the house. Glad I told the girls to slow down as soon as they saw me lying down and crawl up the rest of the way. Also glad none of them managed to be faster than me.

So, anyway, I lie down on a small rise making it possible to spy at the house without being seen with just relatively small efforts. After another two minutes, the girls come up to my left, first Laura, than Reece and there's an embarrassing amount of glee in my head at seeing both of them having just a bit of trouble controlling their breathing for just a small moment. Hopefully none of that made it to my face because boy, that black eye that Reece gave me still hurts like the devil.

I just give them a short glance and then turn back to the house where almost everyone seems to have gone into now. I'd never admit that out loud but having basically just one and a half eyes to see properly doesn't exactly do wonders to my field of view and it's a fucking _bitch_ when your main objective is observation of the enemy and finding a possible point of entry.

Then I have an idea and pull open one of my vest's pockets, pull out two radios and turn back to the girls. "Usual frequency, just in case the really big shit hits the fan. And because we're going to split…"

"No fucking way." Seriously, Laura? _Seriously_? Challenging my authority _again_? _What_ made you think that's a good idea _this_ time, huh? Was it… "It's just the three of us, Tom. How do you think is _splitting us up_ even further gonna do any help?"

Reece doesn't look really convinced, either. I'd love to tell them to see how I care because even up here I can see that some serious shit is about to come down inside that cabin any minute now but then again, it _might_ be helpful to tell them what this is about. "Us only being three is the _point_ , Laura. What do you think is gonna happen as soon as we storm down there for our big daring rescue?"

I can see that her patience is starting to wear thin and _maybe_ I shouldn't have said that "my NCO" thing but seriously, they _have_ to see that there's no use in us getting gutted by whoever it is down there even before we reach the bottom of this little hill. "Alright, fine, what do you want us to do?"

Yes, that is actually a really good… ahem. "I need someone going over there to cover the other exits, two in the back, one on the other side from us and I need someone here as my second eye." And there goes my resolution not to mention the fucking eye… anyway. I point at Laura first. "So… you – cover." She doesn't look happy but I know what I'm doing here, trust me. I point at Reece next. " And you – spotter. Me…"

"Tom!" Alright, this is it. I've had it with this shit. I'm gonna… "You can't use Maureen…"

"Sir, I'm not exactly spotter quali…" Not you, too.

"I know, and I don't want you to spot for shooting, Kid." Mh. No idea where that came from but at least it seems to have pacified the… girls. I meant to say "harpies" but I guess I'm just being unfair here. That's just what usually happens when subordinates think that _I'm running a fucking democracy or what_ … sorry. On with the show. "But I do need someone to tell me what they're saying."

Silence, for a moment, then uncomfortable squirming on Reece's part. Dammit. "I'm really not a good lip…"

Uh-uh, not this time, Kid. You ain't gonna get out of _this_ one. "You spent your junior and senior year in high school and every summer during college in a summer camp for hearing impaired kids, _Lieutenant_. Yes, you know how to lip read." And _this_ is why it's good to have your subordinates' records memorized. Even that's because you stared at her picture and wondered if she really was ever that young one time too many.

At least it seems to have effectively shut them up, so I turn back to the scene in the house and pull my rifle up from my back to hand the snipe scope I stuck to it with what seemed half a roll of duct tape to Reece when I hear a very low but emphatic "I hate you." that was _definitely_ murmured by her.

Something in that actually pisses me off enough that I turn back to her with a stare that is hopefully suitably dark. "What was that?"

I'm pretty sure I can see Laura grin like a maniac when she grabs one of the radios from my hand rather roughly, gets up to slink over to her new hiding spot and pats Reece proudly on the shoulder. Who in turn doesn't even miss a beat and clear her throat or something when she says, "Nothing, sir." And probably just to mock the shit out of me, she even adds, "You're totally right, sir."

Sometimes, I really do hate my job.

Especially when someone who just told you she hates you like she does with all her heart scoots closer to you and brushes her fingers against yours when she takes the fucking scope from your hand and touches her feet with yours accidentally. It's times like those that I'm really, really glad that usually, there's something needing my attention much more than she does.

So I just prop up my rifle and lean against it, Noruega in one of the windows I can see firmly in my crosshairs. I just tell myself that the only reason I'm mighty pissed off about not Dee being here to spot for me as usual is that it's because he's done there, having done God knows what to him by that bitch and her cronies, not because my current spotter happens to be on my mind so constantly, ever since she walked down the stairs in my fucking shirt in my fucking _house_. Priorities, I totally have them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

_DeLisle_

I'm not completely sure but this might actually be the biggest screw up of my entire career yet. There was one clusterfuck in Bosnia with a bunch of grunts from some Army Ranger unit when the Major was still green behind his Black Ops ears and one in Russia with a GRU unit when the Major was _really_ new to that whole Special Ops crap and I do remember one or two other instances that had less than stellar outcomes, actually at least partly to some stupidity on my account but I'm pretty sure none of those was ever as bad as the one I'm currently finding myself in.

Ever since Noruega jumped up from the foxhole and yelled at Doggie Boy to get me the fuck off her hands I've been wondering which memo I missed that told me that she's apparently a two timing bitch and that my _former employers_ are the kings of the land of two timing bitches. When they blindfolded me, I instantaneously started going over the entire mission up to then and I _swear_ I couldn't have come up with any situation that should have given me an inkling as to what was about to come if my life depended on it.

I still kept replaying the mission in my head when I felt the helo descend and then land and they pushed me out and made me walk a short distance which ended in what smells like a cabin that hasn't been used for a prolonged amount of time – wood and dust and old blankets – and sounds pretty empty.

I can also hear the footsteps of two people. There's Noruega because I'd recognize that kind of treating light everywhere, but the second set of steps…

I am so, so screwed.

"So… you're back." Err, yes? No? I don't know? Can you repeat the question? "No, don't answer that, it wasn't even a real question." Ah, phew, that's a relief. "But then again… you always were one of our smartest assets. Shame you turned your back on the Agency."

"Can we get to the point, please?" Ah, shit. That wasn't supposed to slip out. Then again, Special Agent Raimar – rank and name both being cover identities most likely – always had that effect on a lot of people. Sometimes, even me.

There's no answer for a moment but I can hear feet shuffling – Noruega's, definitely and someone else's, though not Raimar's – then, "Do you have any idea how long it took us to find you again?" Let me do some quick calculating. Oh, right. "Alright, that was a stupid question. Of course you do." Yes. Yes, I do. And there's a _reason_ for that. "Seven years, eight months and fifteen days until Sergeant, or rather Ms. Noruega here found you. On another planet, at that. Imagine our surprise."

Actually, I imagine there was none. Nobody can tell _me_ that there's anything going on Raimar and his cronies _don't_ know about. And what's with Noruega? Double agent? Triple agent? Completely and utterly certifiably bat shit crazy?

Then again, I should just shut the fuck up, I guess. Because no matter how crazy – or not – my ex-affair/girlfriend/team mate is, I just should have realized something wasn't right. I _know_ her or at least I thought I did and I should _never_ have trusted her the way I did. Or trusted _myself_ to know exactly what I'm doing.

Fuck.

What if I wasn't half as secretive I thought I was? Holy crap, what if they somehow got my fucking _team_ or at least know where they are any my team have no idea that they're in the crosshairs of a bunch of seriously deluded agents, ex-agents, whatever? What if… "You've got no idea why you're here, Sergeant, have you?"

No. But then again, "Does it really matter?"

"Yes," he says and I'm pretty sure I just heard Noruega snigger in the background, "Yes, it does." Damn, I nearly snigger myself, seeing as he's being on the dramatic side now. "It does to _me_ , Sergeant."

And then I realize what this is all about. What _the fuck_ it's all about. October 1995, Democratic Republic of the Congo, known then as Zaire. Noruega and I had been sent down there to scout out illicit American operations in the jungle. We'd been told nothing specific, just that we were to stay strictly with scouting, no wet work this time and Heaven help us if our cover was blown. We both assumed that we wouldn't get a burn notice, we'd get _burned corpses_ instead. Ours, to be specific.

Anyway… we went down there and sneaked through the jungle, avoiding poachers, human traffickers, a couple SAS guys with equally shady motives as us and a couple smugglers. A few days after we landed, we found our objective, a diamond mine deep in the jungle. And guess who was the first guy we saw coming out of main hut? That's absolutely right. Special Agent Raiman him fucking self.

"Six years, Reaper." Six years what? "Six years I spent in a fucking _prison_ , not even in God knows where because God sure as hell never even visited that hellhole." So… apparently, _he_ got a burn notice after I reported what I found out to the State Department. In my defense: I always thought the State Department would arrange for him to be shipped back to the US and given a US trial, not let him rot away in an African prison.

Then again, back there in the jungle. He was acting as the head of a blood diamond trading ring. Those things aren't called that for their color. And he was using _children_ for digging them out of the ground. He _deserved_ what he got.

"Six years that were hell on Earth. Because of _you_."

No. Because he was _killing children_ for his bloody diamonds and a little illegal arms trading on the side, too. "Fuck you, Raiman."

Was that Noruega I just heard snorting? It must have been because instead of answering me, I hear Raiman say, "Shut your fucking mouth, Rogue. Or you'll be next." Interesting that he's still using our CIA call signs. Though I kind of wish he wouldn't. I really don't like to be reminded of how I got mine.

"I'll be next anyway, won't I, Ray-Ray?" And I really wish Noruega would just keep her big mouth shut. "But do go on, I like a good show before meeting my maker." _What_ is she playing here at? Why first nearly _begging_ me to shoot her if our former employers ever got their hands on her – and believe me, that was no show, that was the real deal – then doing a one eighty and now practically _asking_ him to get rid of her first?

"Just _shut the fuck up_. I'm not interested in you, I only want _him_." Really? And here I always thought he wanted to get into _Noruega_ 's pants every time he so much as saw her face on a screen. Thank God there's this thing with me being responsible for him having been subject to Congolesian hospitality for six years. Otherwise, this would most probably be about something as petty as _jealousy_. Jesus fucking Christ. Seriously, can someone _please_ get me out of here? "So, anyway, Reaper… what do you think I'm going to do to you now?"

Frankly? No idea. "Do I look like I care?" Okay, so that was what Laura likes to call "doing a Moore" but something about Raiman makes me really, really pissed off.

Enough, actually, to not even being shocked when he suddenly rips off the blindfold and I'm staring into a face being blotched with something that looks like big, ugly pockmarks. Or when he grins at me beneath all that scar tissue and says, "Then I guess I'll just have to _make_ you care."

_Reece_

"Shit." I just should stop trying to think before I speak because apparently, it never works, anyway.

"What is it, Lieutenant? What did that guy say to Dee?" Gee, sir, judging by how anxious you sound one could almost think you _care_ about your NCO.

And please stop fiddling with your stupid rifle next to me. I know you call it "taking care that my equipment is always in top shape" but it's really just fiddling with it because you want to get up and _do_ something. I understand that – because I do feel the same way – but it makes it _really_ hard to concentrate on what's going down there.

Also, it keeps reminding me of the fact that he's lying _right next to me_ and _that_ reminds me of how I spent a night in his bed. I know I should just get over that but somehow… anyway. Task at hand. As usual, best way to keep myself from plunging right into thoughts about my CO I _just shouldn't be having_. "I'm not entirely sure, sir, but…"

" _What_ did he say to Dee that made you go all swearing grunt on me, Lieutenant?" I can barely keep from sighing.

"I think he just threatened to torture Dee, sir." Without even turning around, I know that the Major just became all stiff next to me. It's a bit scary that I know that without even having to look at him but it's like it's intense enough that I can actually _feel_ it.

"You _think_?" I. Oh God. I really thought I'd never again feel such a strong urge to just _hit_ him as I felt back in the workout room but apparently, he's starting to make me feel that way on a fucking regular basis.

I take a deep breath. "I'm not a professional lip reader and it's been a while since I did it consciously. I can't tell you what _exactly_ he said but it looked very much like "I'll have to make you care", in reply to Dee telling him he doesn't care what that guy is going to do to him." I frown, concentrating on the window again. Torture guy left the visible space, hopefully not to get any helpful torture instruments but quite honestly, I don't have much hope about that.

"Did you get _anything_ on what this is about?" You mean other than what I already told you? No, sir. "You know what, forget I asked that. That was stupid." Err, what? "Don't look at me like that, Kid. Even _I_ know when I just said something exceedingly stupid."

I turn back to the scope, not really registering what's going on down there for at least a few seconds because you know, it's not the fact that the Major realized he asked me a stupid question. It's that he actually _admitted_ it. I make a note to myself to try checking if he was somehow replaced by a clone or something. Because, seriously. _Seriously_.

Ah, torture guy is back. Thank God. At least that keeps me from thinking too closely about what just happened. Okay, leaning down to Dee again – was it on _purpose_ that he positioned himself and Dee so that we can actually see them both? – and… damn, all those scars in his face make it really hard to get at least the gist of what he's saying. "He's saying something about… that prison again and how he got…" oh shit oh shit oh shit, "Sir, I think he's going to try and infect Dee with…"

To achieve an acceptable result while sniping, you usually need a rifle that's modified to allow for more precision than the usual rifle, with a longer barrel, a better scope and a really sensitive trigger, such as the G22 or an M82. Some people, though, apparently can achieve the same with a standard assault rifle such as the G36 when they're really, really pissed off or really, really worried. Just like Major Moore here.

I've never seen him operate as a sniper before and I'm not sure if I ever want to again. The cold-hearted precision he just exhibited is _so_ not like him that it's a little scary. I honestly will never complain about his goofing off and trash talking ever again if I don't have to see _that_ side of him again.

So it's kind of convenient that only seconds after a lone rifle shot rang through the valley, all hell breaks loose.

Okay, not _all_ hell but there's two guys coming out of the house and two more coming out of the woodwork directly opposite the house entrance. There's two clicks from the radio and another three in short succession, a sign that Laura saw them, too and decided to stay put. There's two answering clicks with a longer pause between them from the Major, confirming that he heard her and one more to tell her he approves of her decision.

Then he turns back to me and says, "Fancy a good old daring rescue, Kid?"

No one, especially not a 31-year-old Major of the United States Air Force who just _happens_ to be my superior officer should grin at me like that right after he dropped a man from about 55 yards, _just like that_. Because that inevitably leads me to having to fight back a grin myself and saying, "Age before beauty, sir," _just like that_.

Thank God, he just gets up to run down the little hill towards the house because that gives me next to no time trying to think about why _the fucking hell_ I just _said_ that. Let's just hope that at least Laura didn't hear that exchange via the radio.

A good old daring rescue it is, then.


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

_Greenspan_

Just fucking great. This is getting better and better. First Tom splits up the team, then he actually _shoots_ someone in the vicinity and then the minions come crawling out of the woodwork. And _then_ he apparently decided to charge down the damn hill, our linguist in tow. I hate it when he does that. I _especially_ hate it with Maureen in tow. Because he just doesn't _think_ in situations like that.

But at least that gives me a distraction from that exchange I just think I heard over the radio. _Age before beauty_. Seriously, Maureen? _Serious_ … Shit, stuff happening. Stuff happening at the back of the house and I am here all alone. Way to go, SG10. That was some serious planning you did before an some _seriously_ awesome execution, huh?

Okay, anyway, back to the job at hand. Trying not to draw too much attention to myself – it's all on the house, anyway and I damn well hope Tom and Maureen will let me know if anything is wrong – I make my way through the bushes to over where I saw the suspicious activity happening.

Carefully, I step through the shrubbery, the Beretta drawn but pointed to the ground and one ear to the house. There are muffled sounds of fighting and I hope to God that Tom has an eye on Maureen. I'm pretty sure she'd have a few choice words to say about my tendency to be a little overprotective but I can't help it. She's the little sister I never had and not even the fact that she managed to surprise Tom so much that she managed to get her fist past his defenses could always fully convince me that she doesn't need anyone looking out for her.

So… what _exactly_ is going on… Noruega. That's Noruega who just came out of the back door, not even taking care to check her surroundings for any possible threats – which shows that she's either blessed by hubris greater than Tom's or really, _really_ in a hurry – and scurrying up the little slope directly opposite to the backdoor.

Still advancing and the Beretta in one hand, I reach up to the radio clipped to my shoulder to signal to Tom that I just encountered a suspect and am in pursuit. For a few moments of trying to stay on Noruega without making myself known to her, I don't hear anything until… _shit_. "Stay where you are."

This isn't good. There's a cold steel muzzle pressed against my temple and I can't believe I didn't hear him coming up behind me. And that he has the gall to point a fucking _weapon_ to my head. Just you wait…

"Dammit, Laura, I mean it. Stay right where you are." And for that you need to _threaten me with a Beretta_?

"Get that fucking thing off me, we need to…"

"No." No? _No_? " _I_ need to. You stay here and get back into the house. The Major and Maureen could use your support." Wait, since when is _he_ giving the orders?

Oh. Well.

I try to take a deep breath and swallow my frustration and urgency. I shouldn't be doing this. I should tell him to suck it up and take me with him, make him heed my orders. Tom just signaled that they are encountering resistance but that I don't need to worry so the risk of me supporting Dee wouldn't be too big. But I'm pretty sure I never heard that kind of determination in his voice ever before. "Will you _please_ put away that thing? I'm going to turn around now and I'd prefer _not_ to be shot in the head by my fucking team mate."

There's hesitation, just for a very short moment and dammit, _we're on the fucking clock here_. In the end, though, the muzzle leaves my temple and I turn around, very slowly. God, he looks awful.

For a moment, neither of us says anything and I wish we had the time to actually talk about this because he looks like something is making him hurt, deep inside and I wonder what those bastards did to him. I'm not sure if I really want to know.

Then he just nods and says, "I'll be fine. I'll meet you once the situation out here is contained."

There really is nothing else to say because there's a weird closed off look in his eyes, as if he's miles away and suddenly I wonder if it wasn't something they did to him. I wonder if it's something that he's probably going to do that's making him hurt so bad that I could actually _see_ it a moment ago. I nod. "Don't do anything stupid, Dee."

I wish he wouldn't do that. I wish he wouldn't be able to switch from cold-hearted killer to charmingly uncomfortable from one moment to the next. I wish he wouldn't give me that kind of sheepish grin. "Would I ever, ma'am." And with that he's gone, taking off through the shrubbery, right in the moment I receive a click from Tom telling me he wouldn't mind a bit of assistance. Right.

_DeLisle_

I wish she wouldn't look at me like she just saw something I tried very hard to hide. I wish she wouldn't have seen what it cost me to make the decision I just made. I wish she wouldn't look at me like she sees a cold-hearted killer.

Then again, that's basically what I am. Not all the time, granted, not even on a permanent base. But right now, I'm pushing everything behind mental barriers to keep my mind clear and focused on finding Noruega.

When I heard that shot and Raiman suddenly dropped dead, it fazed even _me_ for a moment but then again, I'd seen the Major do it once before, and trust me that had been scary as fuck. It did serve to remind me that even though he never quite dropped the attitude and the way to be annoying as shit that he had when I first met him, you should _never_ underestimate his ability to focus his anger and energy into one single shot of frightening precision.

So, anyway Raiman had suddenly been dead and all hell had broken lose. Someone stormed the interrogation room and I just heard Noruega shoot them when I tried to make myself as small as possible a target. Then shooting outside the room had started and I used the confusion to push my chair over to where Raiman was lying in a pool of his own blood.

I'd have even taken a moment to admire what was pretty sure the Major's handiwork if I'd had the time.

As it was, I kind of realized Noruega had left the room as soon as she could and whoever had invaded the house kept Raiman's goons tied down so I pushed until I was close to where I presumed the keys to my hand cuffs to be. I let myself fall sideways and after a bit of hassle, I actually managed to find them in Raiman's pocket – he'd always been one easy to see through motherfucker – and freed my hands. I didn't waste any time in trying to get into the fighting and grabbed Raiman's side arm instead, making my way to the backdoor I knew existed.

And here I am, trying to forget that I sent Laura into the mayhem that's probably still going on in the house because I didn't want her to see what I am most probably going to do with Noruega.

Anyway… she's always been good at covering her tracks but then again, she did learn the how from the same instructor that I did. So she's got a signature and even though we haven't seen each other for over seven years before our encounter a couple months ago at the Beta site, I could see that some of the quirks she developed during our time at the Agency are still there. I wasn't the only one leaving behind clues and I really should have known better than to assume they were simply for any prospective buyers.

So, she's in a hurry, almost like an animal that's being hunted and I can't believe I'm still not seeing through her game. So she always had a knack for intrigue but double and triple scheming her double and triple schemes? Seems a bit extreme even for her. And _obviously_ , it got her in shit so deep it's already three foot over her head, seeing as her covering act is becoming sloppier. Where the hell is she… "You really are off your game, aren't you, Sy?"

 _Shit_.

Shit shit shit.

Did this _really_ just happen?

Okay. Calm and collected. Blank out that my team is somewhere behind me, fighting rogue or loyal or whatever CIA operatives. Blank out that she's right, that I really _am_ off my game and that I don't regret it one bit. Blank out that this time, I'm not going to shoot her in the thigh.

"How do you know I am, Tali?" Play it out. Hope the stereotype of villains who'd rather gloat and laugh at you than you shoot you is true. Because whatever the hell I'm going to have to do in a moment, I _will_ look her in the eyes when I do it.

"You let yourself be caught with your pants down by me, so to speak." Right. "I'd say that's pretty much off your game." Well, it is.

I take a deep breath, hoping not to startle her into doing something stupid, like shooting me. I make a decision. "Maybe I am." I can hear her snort from behind me. "And you know what? I don't regret a thing."

Another snort. "Aw, come _on_. Just spare me the reformed killer attitude and all that crap. You're no less of what you used to be as I am."

So. Obviously the stereotype _is_ true, at least for some. And did I register a quivering there, or maybe a very small trembling? For a very short, very painful moment I feel a glimmer of hope, thinking that maybe, _maybe_ she can still be saved. "Tali…"

"I'm sorry, Sy," she says in a weirdly regretful, even _sad_ voice and that's probably the one thing that saves me. It told me a millisecond too early that she's about to pull the trigger and because of that, purely on instinct I manage to dodge the bullet, twist around while falling and pull my weapon's trigger and… suddenly she's on the ground, blood trickling down her face from her forehead as I can see now because I rushed to her side immediately and one look into her dead and broken eyes tells me the shot must have killed her instantaneously.

Oh God. Oh _God_.

There's a rush of dizziness and nausea rolling over me but for the moment I can push it away fast enough to be able to close her eyes and without me even wanting to, the words, "No, _I_ 'm sorry, Tali," rolled off my tongue in a hoarse whisper. And _then_ I find myself retching into the underbrush. _Shit_.


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

_Reece_

In the end, wrapping up our little quest wasn't that different from a good old off-world brawl on one of the messier retrieval ops. We cleaned out the house methodically, bundling up everyone we didn't kill with zip-ties, covered our tracks as best as we could and anonymously alerted the local authorities to having found a house full of gang members and a stolen Forest Service helo.

What was harder was when we finally encountered Dee. We found him in the underbrush behind the house, crouching next to a very dead Catalina Noruega and seriously, he looked like… _shit_. For a moment, not even the Major had anything to say, seeing as he probably has never seen his long-suffering NCO with eyes almost as dead as the woman next to him, and his face, his entire _posture_ looking so much older than 37. I don't think I ever felt worse for anyone I ever knew than in that moment.

It was Laura who recovered first, crouching down next to him, to feel Noruega's probably long gone pulse and once again, I felt pretty jealous of her scientific doctor's mind that makes her so much better in dealing with death and injury, both physically and mentally. I _hadn't_ counted on her suddenly engulfing Dee in a bone crushing hug, though.

The Major neither, as it seems because for a moment, he looks like he'd very much like to break this up as fast as he can, for whatever reason. But then he looks at me and… did my tiny head shake just actually dissuade him from doing something stupid? I can't believe that just… "Okay, guys, we gotta go."

Of _course_ it didn't. And the worst thing is that he's absolutely right so I manage to keep my mouth shut for once. The amazing thing, though, is that _Laura_ keeps her mouth shut as well – not without a really dark look for the Major, which probably was a given, anyway – and just gets up, along with Dee.

There's another weird moment, in which no one really seems to know what to say or what to do and for Heaven's sake, Major, if you won't do it, I will. Without even really registering that I actually moved, I repeat Laura's move and give Dee an equally crushing hug because _damn_ is it good to have him back unharmed and I didn't even know how _much_ I missed him until this moment. I even manage to ignore Dee's rather embarrassed moment of pause before briefly hugging me back.

Let's, err, never talk of that again, shall we?

Anyway, it's the Major's turn now and… seriously? All they do is stare at each other, nod at each other and give each other crushing back slaps? Not even a manly bear hug? Aw, come _on_.

"Uh, guys…" Perfect timing, Laura. I thought they'd expire from all the bottled up manly feelings before you spoke up. That's why I love you, you know. "What about…"

As if on cue, we all look at the dead woman on the ground. Everyone except Dee. Who says in a kind of voice I never heard from him before and never want to hear again, "Leave her. They'll know what to do with her."

It's not that he just sounded cold or impassive or even pained. It's that beneath the exhaustion clearly audible there's some kind of… _hope_. I know that can't be but that's the only way I can describe it. It sounded like hope and that's what… _scares_ me. I seriously hope that I'm the only one who just heard that.

From the look of it, the Major might have, too, from knowing Dee long enough to be able to decipher nuances – pretty great feat for a man who probably doesn't even know how to spell "nuance" – but if he did, he obviously decided not to mention it, simply saying, "Alright, let's get this area cleaned up, and then it's back to base, everyone."

I can honestly say that in all the months I've been serving at the SGC, I never liked to hear this phrase more than right fucking now. And never before did "back to base" sound more like "let's get home, people".

_Moore_

I don't know what they expected from me but I sure as hell hope it wasn't the same kind of bear hug the girls gave Dee. That's not something my people do. And by my people I mean black ops operators turned SGC soldiers by the rank of Major. So basically me.

Honestly, I have no idea what I'm talking about here but really, I don't do hugs.

Anyway, it's back to base and I'm driving. Laura tried to take the keys from me but I didn't survive rogue CIA agents just to get killed by my second in command's driving. Also, I found the damn car, I drive the damn car, easy as that. What's not so easy is the fact that the car is eerily silent. Or, not the car actually because that thing is loud enough to scare of any wildlife in a circle of at least 50 miles but the inhabitants. Not a word, not even from Laura and that's kind of… unsettling.

I consider risking throwing her a glance but the road's bad enough that I need to watch where I drive so I try sneaking a glance at Reece in the rearview mirror but she turned her head to look out the window and Dee apparently closed his eyes. I'd never say that aloud but… damn, does he look old right now. Suddenly, there are actual lines around his eyes and somehow his entire face… maybe it's a trick of light or something but there's a distinct grayness to his skin color that I never noticed bef… _Shit_.

"Why didn't you want to hand me the keys again, Tom?" Ah, shut up, Laura. Could have happened to anyone. What's a tree doing on the damn road, anyway?

I'm pretty sure she wants to say something again but I do risk a look towards her now and apparently, something in it made her decided against speaking up. Good girl. And please don't tell her I thought that because I'm gonna be toast if she ever hears about it. I do like my body intact, thank you very much.

As we make our way down from the mountains back towards The Springs, we encounter a howling brigade of cops on their way up, thankfully close enough to the city that we aren't the only traffic on the road. I'm absolutely not in the mood to be dealing with any clueless guardians of the law, and I'm pretty sure the rest of my team isn't, either. They'd probably arrest us right away, if only for various levels of not caring for being pulled over. So good for the cops that they don't even notice us.

Making my way east, I almost turn off for the exit to my place when Dee suddenly says, "If it's not too much of a bother, sir, I'd like to be let off at the Mountain."

Kind of startled, I blink and before I even realized it, I veered back east, in the direction of the Mountain and holy fuck, why did I just let him do that? "You know, you can let me off there as well." Laura… what? Why? "I need to check on one of my experiments. It's gonna raise suspicions if I don't." Right. Uh-huh. An experiment. Sure.

"And what about you, Kid? You need to translate some Ancients' poems _right fucking now_ or the universe will implode or something?" Shit. That wasn't supposed to come out so passive-aggressive but seriously, what's with everyone wanting to go back to the Mountain all of a sudden? Especially Dee, seeing as there _might_ be a few raised eyebrows and him just walking back in there as if nothing happened.

"Actually, sir, I'd like to get back to rereading my _Harry Potter_ novels so I'd rather go back home." Huh? "If it's not too much of a bother." The little… How did this happen? How did my team manage to get the drop on me right after finishing an op like that thing up Knights Peak?

"Right. What the hell ever. Next stop, Cheyenne Mountain." Even though I'd rather have an eye on Dee, just to make sure he's okay. I mean I _know_ he's okay but then again he apparently shot the woman he was sleeping with for a couple years. That's gotta put a dent in anyone's armor. But you know what, I'm kind of fed up with basically _everything_ right now, so what the hell.

So after letting Dee and Laura at the gates of the Mountain, with the words, "Do try not to freak out people too much, Sergeant," for Dee – I just _know_ it's gonna raise a lot of red flags when Dee suddenly steps into the SGC like he never was away but I just realized that maybe it's not a bad thing to flush out one or two CIA creeps – and a meaningful look for Laura – don't she dare letting him out of her sight – I put the car in gear again, Reece now sitting next to me, riding shotgun.

Driving away from the Mountain, I nearly take the exit to her and Laura's home but suddenly… I just… I don't know why but for some reason the thought of going back to my house, my _empty_ house doesn't sound so appealing and before I know it I cleared my throat and say, "Uh, you know, Kid… I was thinking maybe we could just go to my… you know."

I'm pretty sure she's throwing me one of her "Is he dumb or something?" looks again, and it's kind of scary that I know that even without having to look at her, so it surprises me a little when she says, after a prolonged pause, "Alright, sir. I'd just really like to get my copy of _Order of the Phoenix_ first."

Huh. Who would have thought. Stopping at a red light on the lane getting me to the brownstone after all, I risk a glance toward her and am rewarded with a grin that might actually be called wry for my courage. God, I shouldn't be so turned on by that. And I _really_ shouldn't grin back. "Fair enough, Lieutenant… what House are you in, anyway?"

God _dammit_ , I still got the touch. Look at how long nights on the internet looking for hunting knives and landing on obscure fanfiction sites – I _swear_ it was totally by accident – can help you flirting. _If_ you are flirting. Which I totally wasn't. But the deep shade red her face turned into when I let slip the only bit of _Harry Potter_ knowledge I do posses was absolutely worth it.

"Ravenclaw, sir. I'm… a Ravenclaw." Whatever the fuck that means. Guess I'm gonna have to Google _that_ , too. Can't let a perfect opportunity to turn her red like that go to waste now, can I? And now, with a short detour… back to base, for real this time. _Finally_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

_Greenspan_

I have to be honest. I do have an experiment running but I did tell the people in the lab that I wouldn't be there for at least three days so no one would get suspicious yet. Tom – and _Dee_ – didn't have to know about that, though, and it got me out of the car and into the Mountain, right along Dee, so even if it was lying, it served a purpose. The wrong thing for the right reasons and all that crap. _Someone_ needs to keep an eye on Dee.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think he's going to do something stupid and announce his being back to the entire base through the PSA speaker system. But I do think it's going to raise some red flags – just like Tom probably thought – and someone needs to make sure it's not too many. I'm pretty sure Dee's not a novice on damage control himself, having been Tom's NCO for half an eternity now but I do believe in giving a hand.

So I don't even wait until we pass the check-point to walk up to him and say, "I don't think it's a good idea to go back in there."

"The assumption is correct, ma'am." …what?

That's not _exactly_ the reaction I expected. But I'm an adaptive person. I'm really good at adapting. So, "Why are you doing it then?"

"Who said I was?" What the… the little _bastard_. He's grinning. I'm _positive_ that he's grinning. He doesn't _look_ like it but in his fucking _head_ , he's fucking _grinning_.

"Come again?" Okay so there are probably a ton of replies that would have sounded less dumb and more eloquent than that one but even my stellar and practically unparalleled wit has its limits. Times like these are prime examples.

"I never said I'd get back into the Mountain, ma'am. I just wanted to be left off here." Yes, thank you, I realized that. I'm not _entirely_ stupid.

" _Why_ , Sergeant?" I'm starting to sound like Tom, probably the most ineloquent person I ever met.

Dee seems to be thinking the same, judging from his expression. Or maybe he's just contemplating how to lie to me the best way. "Excuse me for answering your question with a question myself, ma'am but… where else do you think Major Moore would have left me off?"

Huh? What kind of question is that… oh, wait. I, err… I see. "Alright, you've got a point, Dee." A pretty good one, actually. Damn, I can't believe our Sergeant's smarter than I am. But then again, I'm not stupid, either.. "Where _do_ you intend to go?"

I know I should have added something like "if you don't mind me asking" or "if it's okay to ask" but since I know he'd just politely tell me that he _does_ mind me asking, given the choice, I decided not to give him that choice. He doesn't look exactly happy about it. "I'd rather not tell you, ma'am."

Oh, of course you wouldn't. You probably got a hideout or ten around town and you don't want any of us to know, for fear that we might uncover them and make you feel less of some James Bond type secret agent with secret lairs and shit and… oh. _Oh_. "You have no idea where to go now, don't you?"

Maybe I'm just as smart as our Sergeant, after all. Maybe I can read him better than I actually thought. Because the way his shoulders slumped just a moment when I told him point blank what I just wildly assumed until now tells me that I hit the bulls eye. "Ma'am…"

"I'm right, ain't I?" Come on, tell me I'm right. Tell me I know you well enough to make a wild guess about your current state of mind and still be right.

But do try not to look so annoyed about it, will you? "Actually… yes, you're right. I used to have a couple safe houses," I _knew_ it. I _fucking_ knew it. Damn, baby, "but after the last couple of days… I have no idea which ones are _actually_ safe. So…"

So…

So… Huh. What is that... ah, text. Text from Tom. Seriously, are you _already_ trying to sound me out, idiot? Jesus.

For a moment, I consider ignoring it and the audacity that's probably behind it but then again, this might be important after all so I resist a sight, tell Dee, "Ah, sorry, I gotta have a look at this for a moment," and open the text. Let's see…

_Tell_ _your experiment buddies to fuck off, grab Dee n drag his ass over to my place. Called in sick for team, gonna make pancakes in the morning. It's an order._

"Ah Jesus fucking Christ." Oops. Wasn't aiming at saying that out loud.

"Ma'am?" But of course Dee would pick it up immediately.

This time, I do sigh. "You know what, Sergeant? You're coming with me."

"Uh, ma'am, really, that's unnecessary. You don't have to…" It is kinda cute how he tries to be all humble and shit. I'm not in the mood for bartering right now, though.

"Yes, I do. I was just "ordered" by Tom to "drag your ass to his place" and I'm not in the mood to get into arguments about insubordination. You're coming with me and that's final." I half expect him to protest harshly – if Simon DeLisle _can_ protest harshly against anything – and walk over to that checkpoint just to spite me.

But then again, Simon DeLisle just isn't Thomas Moore. "Well, in that case…" And thank _God_ for that.

"Good choice, Sergeant. Now let's find ourselves a mode of transportation away from that godforsaken joint. I need a fucking _bed_." It's cute how I can see that just for a second, he wanted to protest and tell me he never actually _said_ that he agreed to come with me but decided against antagonizing the crazy officer even more. To be honest, I actually counted on that a bit.

What I _hadn't_ counted on, though, was him saying, "I might have just the thing, ma'am." Huh? "Ever made friends with a BMW K 1200 GT?" I, uh, don't know? "I see. Come on, let's get you two introduced to each other."

"Excuse me Sergeant, what the _fuck_ are we talking about here?" The _bastard_. Now he _is_ grinning, for all the fucking world to see.

"You'll see, ma'am. Come on, the Beemer's waiting." Alright, fine, whatever. I'm just so done with the entire world that I just throw my hands up and follow him. Over to the motorcycle sheds for personnel living on base.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Uh-oh.

_Moore_

Jesus fucking Christ, can _someone_ please shut off that _infernal fucking noise right in front of my fucking house_? What idiot is riding through the neighborhood on a crazy loud motorbike of the BMW variety at oh-dark-fucking… wait. Dee. Dee owns a Beemer bike that he sometimes likes to take out for a little ride up into the mountains.

And yes, there goes the door and I'm pretty sure I just heard Laura trying to stifle a giggle. What in God's fucking name had them take _four fucking hours_ to get here from the fucking Mountain? Usually, it takes about 20 minutes, 40 on a _really_ shitty day. Growling, I drag myself up on the backrest of the couch I took to sleeping on again to glare at the pair that's currently trying to sneak to their usual rooms upstairs.

You know, it's funny. If it were just Dee I'm pretty sure I'd never have heard him coming in. He'd have parked the Beemer well out of earshot of the house, let himself in and went up the stairs as quiet as a ghost. But give him Laura as a companion and the two of them sound like an entire herd of elephants trampling through the savanna. I hope to God they didn't wake Reece as well. Kid was so tired, she probably hit the pillow already sleeping.

Another barely stifled giggle from Laura as they're pulling off their shoes. Good God. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

That didn't sound like my father asking me the exact same thing whenever I came in after curfew when he was still alive during my teenager years. It didn't. Really. "I can't believe you just started channeling your old man, Tom." Dammit, Laura.

"You were supposed to be here _four fucking hours ago_. I think I'm allowed a little curiosity." I'll just ignore how Dee looks embarrassed and a bit like he'd like to be anywhere but here. Man up, Sergeant, seriously. It's not the first time you see me and Laura fighting.

"Oh, _curiosity_. And here I thought it was an interrogation." Seriously, Laura? _Seriously_?

"I'd just like to know…"

"I'm going to bed, Tom. Whatever it is that's got your boxers in a twist, I don't wanna hear about it. Good night." Oh wow. Look who's in need of her beauty sleep. You could have had _that_ a lot earlier, young lady! "Don't, Tom. Just… don't." And then she's gone.

Jesus. "What about you, Sergeant? Got any scathing smack downs up your sleeve, too?"

Ah fuck it. I probably shouldn't have said that and he looks like he _knows_ I know I shouldn't have. "It was my fault, sir." Sometimes, I really hate the guts of his too polite for his own good self. Because it just makes _me_ looking even ruder than I am.

Time to own up. "Sergeant, I didn't…"

"Captain Greenspan looked for transportation and I offered to take her on the Beemer. My spare full face helmet didn't fit her, so we had to get a new one, along with a few more parts of security equipment." Of course. He takes her on a twenty-minute ride and the first thing he does is go and buy half a set of complete motorcycle gear.

And the worst thing is: I believe him. Completely and utterly believe him. He's just that kind of guy. "It's _okay_ , Dee, really…"

"When we were finished, she wanted to know how fast I could go with a passenger on board and I guess we just… got carried away a bit." He took her out for a fucking _joyride_. He took out my fucking second in command and his fucking _superior_ on a fucking joyride, just after a highly shady mission that could potentially end all our careers and wasn't exactly a piece of cake, either. "I'm really sorry, sir. But you know…"

"How she can be, yes. Just… whatever. Go to bed, Dee." He just nods and takes the first two steps of the staircase.

I'm about to lie down on the couch when I hear him say, "Sir… for what it's worth… thank you."

I manage not to sigh. "Would have done it for anyone, Dee."

There's a weird expression in his face and his voice sounds strange when he says, "Of course, sir." As if he'd like to add "You just keep telling that yourself if it makes you feel better, sir."

I wish I could come up with something better now to end this stupid uncomfortable silence but all I can come up with is, "So…"

He nods. "So… I'll just go to bed and we'll debrief tomorrow, sir?"

Right. "Yes, of course. Good night, Sergeant."

"Good night, sir." And _finally_ I can… "If I may just add one more thing, sir…" Oh for Heaven's sake. "That's a real nice shiner you got there. Awfully small. As if a rather petite fist…"

The little _shit_. "Fuck off, Sergeant."

"Of course, sir. I'll just make sure to compliment Lieutenant Reece on her work tomorrow." I can't believe I put together a mission to rescue that guy. Just when you think he can't get even more annoyingly polite he does a one-eighty and insults you in the most casual and easy way ever.

I am so done right now. "Fuck _off_ , Dee."

Did I just hear a snort?

Ah hell, even if I did, I wasn't lying about being done. Deciding not to dignify that with an answer, I make a point of lying down again, facing away from the staircase, the blanket up to my chin and pretending to fall asleep doesn't seem so hard all of a sudden. I'll just have to find a way for payback tomorrow then…


	17. Chapter 17

**Seventeen**

_Reece_

I swear, if I don't get my fucking pancakes this morning, I'm gonna have to murder someone, preferably the Major. First for making me sleep in his bed again – I swear, he _made_ me – and then for _not_ making pancakes. There was a _promise_ and it's been a couple hellish days and I _want my fucking_ …

"Morning, Kid. Or mid-morning, anyway." Huh? "It's 1100, Marine." Did you just try to imitate a fucking drill sergeant? "… _and_ I'm making pancakes?" Good catch. That was close, sir.

"Good morning, sir." At least I remembered my basic manners just in time. I don't think "you better" would have been an appropriate answer, having had to sleep in his damn bed again or not. Also, I was raised to be polite. "Do you, err, need any help, sir?"

I can see very well that his first instinct seems to be telling me to fuck off – he's kind of protective of his kitchen, as I learned two months ago when I offered to help him with some pulled pork and he all but threw me out when I didn't wait for his answer and started taking it out of the oven when his kitchen timer rang – but then he seems to have remembered _his_ good manners and just gives me a half-grin, saying, "No, I'm good. But you could start setting the table."

Um, are we having an actual sane and normal conversation with each other, without either Dee or Laura present? Huh. "Of course, sir. Laura and Dee…"

"Haven't shown their faces yet, no." Oh God, we _are_ having A Normal Conversation. I can't believe this is happening. "Must have been one hell of a nightly joyride."

What the hell is he talking about? "Nightly joyride, sir?"

He gives a long-suffering sigh while mixing the pancake batter in a bowl. "Ask Laura. I'm sure she's got a lot to tell you." Aaand we're done with the Normal Conversation.

I resist the same longsuffering sigh and decide not to dignify that with an answer, instead getting out plates and cutlery and it's totally _not_ a highly domestic scene, _okay_? "Aw, all that domesticity oozing off the two of you is really cute, actually." _Dammit, Laura_.

"You are one to talk, Roxette." I think he lost me there. Roxette? Huh? "She says hello, you fool, I love you…"

"C'mon join the joyride…"

"Join the joyride…"

"She says, hello, you fool… you _ass_ , Tom." For hundreds of thousands of other people in The Springs this Tuesday mid-morning is a usual Tuesday mid-morning. They just finished their first leg of the workday and are getting ready for their lunch break, probably just finishing off their e-mail backlog when they made it an early day yesterday. Me, I'm standing at my boss's kitchen table while my boss and my roommate give an impromptu performance of Roxette's _Joyride_.

Sometimes, I do wonder if I shouldn't have tried harder for a normal desk job in DC.

But then again, it was a rather ingenious move to steer Laura away from the whole domestic bliss routine she'd probably already had fully mapped out in her head when she came down and saw the Major and I doing what we'd been doing. I throw the Major a look and for some reason, he looks back, appearing to try to caution me against encouraging Laura for another attempt at making us both uncomfortable. Nothing I'd rather do, sir, nothing I'd rather do.

Anyway… "So… what _exactly_ did you tell them at the Mountain that they let us stay home, Tom?" Ah, good, Laura decided to go for a _different_ sensitive topic, and even before breakfast.

For some reason, though, the Major doesn't seem to be very put off by it. "Called in sick and gave them your identifier so we didn't have to go come in to get a check up by the infirmary."

That was… _kind_ of a dick move, sir? You absolutely don't deserve any of the surprised respect I just felt for you. "You did _what_?" Apparently, Laura agrees about the dick move.

Still unperturbed. What the fuck is going on? "Used your identifier so we didn't have to come in for a check up in the infirmary."

"You _lied_ , Tom. Do you have _any_ idea what that could do to my career?" Oh just great. And I still haven't had any breakfast yet. "You could at least have _asked_ me."

"Yeah, see…" don't do that, sir. Don't rub your neck and look all contrite. "The thing is… we can't just walk back in there as if nothing ever happened. Most of all because I have feeling something's fishy about this. I need to dig deeper and I can't do that from inside the SGC network."

There's no immediate reaction and for a moment, I have a vision of Laura storming out of the house in indignation, PJs and all, because she's _just so pissed off_ but then nothing of that sort happens. "Tom?"

"Yes?" he says and doesn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.

She sighs. She actually sighs. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

He blinks and starts pouring batter into his pan, without even looking at it. I decide not to be too jealous of his Awesome Cooking Skillz. And never tell him about the other times when I _am_. "I did, actually." Yeah, right. "No really. And I'm being serious, Laura. This isn't over yet, and I don't intend letting my team walk into a possible trap."

Laura doesn't answer right away but at least this is starting to lose the feeling of impending team leadership melt down and then she finally comes up with, "Alright, fine. We'll talk about this again but… it's fine. Whatever." Then she seems to have decided to put it away for now and switches to semi-professional. "For how long did you excuse us?"

Thank _God_ he decides to be smart and not do any weird victory dancing. After a couple of months working with him, I have a feeling he wouldn't be entirely above that. "Just today. We debrief, I go digging, we clear a couple things up, we go back in. Easy as pie." Mhm, sure, because everything this team does is always easy as pie. Yep. Totally. "But now… breakfast. And where the hell _is_ Dee?"

_DeLisle_

I resist the temptation to clear my throat. "I'm right here, sir." Three sets of eyes look at me like I just appeared out of thin air. Jeez, people. It wasn't as if I was _trying_ to be quiet.

And look who realized first that I must have been standing at the landing of his staircase for a while. Long enough to hear the _Joyride_ thing, anyway. "Yeah, well, do you want pancakes or not?" Ah, sir, ever the polite and friendly host, aren't we? "Thought so. Come on, get your ass over to the table. I ain't serving you over there."

I share a short look with Laura and Reece and it's really amazing to see how well able they are by now to roll their eyes in an exactly synchronized motion. Trying not to grin, I walk over to the table and sit down in my usual spot, a wall at my back and a good view of the proceedings. I'm pretty sure the Major still hates me for taking that spot before he could when we had our first team gathering here.

There's silence for a moment when the women are getting settled, too and the Major is finishing off another batch of pancakes. It's not an uncomfortable silence per se but it's almost the exact same thing that I was dreading when I was lying away almost the entire night.

Don't get me wrong, I did get to sleep two, maybe three hours, out of sheer exhaustion but the main part of the night I spent going over everything in my head, again and again and _again_. I kept wondering where I went wrong and what I could have done differently and I did make an entire list – even wrote it down before tearing it up and adding it to the Major's pile of trash paper he uses to light his fireplace now and then – and I kept wondering how my teammates would react to everything in the long run.

And I kept seeing Tali's eyes go dead in infinite loop.

"So…" Huh? Oh, right, the Major's done with the pancakes and the table's complete.

I take a breath deep enough he might actually have noticed it. "So…"

"So… you want yours with butter or without?" Well. I have to say, I'm kind of grateful that he just asked the most inane question he _could_ ask – he should know that I always take the damn things with no butter but plenty of syrup – because I swear, if _anyone_ asks me how I am, I'll have to leave the room and never come back.

For a moment, I consider not answering and instead just taking a really big share of the _really big_ pile of pancakes in the middle of the table but that would probably be so out of character for me that my teammates would wonder if I somehow got replaced by an ill-programmed clone so I simply try not to sound too annoyed when I say, "Still without butter, sir."

The Major clears his throat. "Yeah, uh, okay. Great. Just, um… have at it, guys."

I'm not entirely sure but for a moment, Lieutenant Reece actually looked like she was about to sigh dramatically and claim "Oh God, _finally_ " in the probably most exasperated voice I ever heard from her. Actually, I almost regret she didn't, because at least that would have broken up the weird atmosphere around the table.

Anyway. Pancakes. Pancakes are good. Pancakes – especially the Major's – might actually be able to make me forget about the whole damn mission for at least five minutes because boy, do I need those five fucking minutes. But yeah, being the polite idiot that I am, I let Laura and Reece have first pick before I take my share, after having had to be actually encouraged by the Major and then… ah, God, _yes_.

I so fucking needed that.

And from the look of it, the others did, too, because it takes at least ten minutes of very intend pancake eating until someone finally speaks up again. It's Reece, of all people. "You know, guys… I wish we could just have Obliviated everyone up on that mountain."

There are two interesting things about this. One, her rather conversationally tone, sounding a tad wrong, as if she needed to force herself to stay cool about the entire issue of us leaving behind a bunch of rogue CIA agents to be dealt with by a bunch of unsuspecting cops. And two, the incomprehensive faces all around and how it's kind of cute how it takes Reece at least a couple seconds until she realizes why that is. "Um, Harry Potter reference?" No, really? "You didn't read it, did you?"

Okay, she's gotta be some kind of fan because there was an actual almost accusing tone to her voice. I clear my throat, having decided to jump in on a whim. "I did."

Oh come on, guys, don't look at me in that shocked way. There's nothing wrong with reading a bunch of passably well written books, even if they're supposed to be kids' books. It's not my fault that those were the only ones available in the base library when I was really, really bored a couple of weeks ago. Would you believe that the fucking library owes only twenty-six works of fiction that aren't reference-only?

Reece blinks at me, a bit like a deer in headlights. "Uh, really?"

I resist rolling my eyes. She doesn't quite deserve that. "Yeah." However, she kind of deserves _that_ , "But I didn't remember the spells."

At that, I get a face and even a stuck out tongue and a, "Very funny, _Sergeant_." Then, she seems to have remembered that we aren't alone at the table and tries to switch back to serious, "So what are we gonna do about them?"

"Leave them to the Order of the Phoenix." I _know_ that the Major just wanted to answer but for some reason, I'm not ready to let go of the game yet. Maybe I just don't want to discuss that other shit over breakfast is why.

Reece makes another face, this time a bit pouty and I could have sworn that the Major just did a discrete double-take. Please don't tell me… no, just don't tell me, period. "I'd rather leave them to He Who Must Not Be Named." Okay, looking at it that way…

"Tom?"Ah, Laura decided to weigh in now.

"Yes?" Yes, that's a good question, sir.

"Do you have any idea what those two are talking about?" There's another moment of weird silence in which Reece looks like she wants to sink into the floor for showing her geeky side just for once and Laura looks kind of put out and the Major looks like he'd like to say something but doesn't dare to…

And then Reece makes a strange sound, something between a giggle and a snort, Laura joins in, the Major smirks and suddenly we're all laughing and I swear I have never felt so much relief as right now, right here. We're laughing and it takes us a couple minutes until Laura says, between giggles, "Jesus fucking Christ, guys, I can't believe what I just heard. I swear it's like an entire foreign language!"

As a reply, Reece scrunches her nose and tells Laura that she did tell her to read the damn books and Laura tells her that no amount of badgering could _ever_ make her read children's books and the Major weighs in, telling us all that Lieutenant Reece apparently told him she considers herself a Ravenclaw – that was a no-brainer actually and did he threaten her with torture to make her reveal that to him? – and I feel so at home that it's almost painful.

Yes, I know that this isn't over, not b a long shot and I know that despite whatever we might believe right now, none of us will ever be entirely safe as long as anyone behind the web of lies that led to this mission is still alive and I know that I will keep seeing Tali's eyes go dead for a very long time but right here, right now, I feel at home.

Those people, they're my team and I know without a second's doubt that they'll watch my back just as carefully as I will watch theirs. They're all the fucking family I still have left, and I'd die before letting anyone do them harm. May the Lord show mercy to anyone trying to hurt any of them. Because I sure as hell won't.


End file.
